


Protection {Mafia!Shiro x Officer!Lance)

by IShouldUpdateMore



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcoholism, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lotor (Voltron), Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dark Shiro (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Good Lotor (Voltron), Hints of Shotor, Human Allura (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron) Angst, Kuro (Voltron) - Freeform, M/M, Minor Allura/Lance (Voltron), Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Minor Character Keith, Minor Hunk/Lance (Voltron), Minor Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Minor Lotor/Shiro, Minor Shiro/Lotor (Voltron), Murder, Nightmares, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Past Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lotor (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Police Officer Lance (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Romelle - Freeform, Romura, Shunk, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Lance (Voltron), mafia Shiro, shance, sheith hints
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:11:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 354,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldUpdateMore/pseuds/IShouldUpdateMore
Summary: Officer Lance McClain is new to the police department. Recently graduated, he took on the biggest case he could get ahold of, wanting to make a name for himself.A case on a drugs bust from a member of the Galra mafia. With luck, Lance hoped, this would lead him to a highly wanted fugitive with known ties to the mafia- Takashi Shirogane.Perhaps it worked a little too well.-Updates on Fridays.





	1. The Drug Bust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emma J](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Emma+J).



> This work was written with a close friend who'd prefer to stay anon but this would have been impossible to make without her.

Finally.

Lance studied himself in the wing mirror as he stayed parked by the warehouse. His badge was shining perfectly. Finally he had completed his first case and was going to complete a drug bust in the warehouse of the largest town mafia. Hopefully, in a couple hours time, he’d be back in the precinct with around fifty arrested mafia members. He grinned childishly to himself, loading his gun. He stood and dashed toward the warehouse, masked by the cover of the evening darkness. It was early autumn so it was slightly chilly and already quite dark. He plastered himself against the door, several officers behind him. He knew he was supposed to wait for backup but the cars were only five minutes away and he was sure he’d be fine. He didn’t hesitate.

 

Kicking in the door to the facility, Lance charged. He held his gun out, pointing it at any and every mafia member near to him. “Get down on the ground! Get on the fucking ground! You’re under arrest!” he would shout at the others, allowing the other officers to deal with them as he pushed upstairs. He held his gun close as he pushed through every door.

Adrenaline was pumping through his body but he had to avoid showing any emotions and he needed to stay focused on the mission. He pushed open door after door, almost all of which leading to empty rooms. He heard murmuring from the next door along, just one voice, and shifted to press his whole weight against the door to listen in. His fingers curled around the handle.  
His eyes widened as he recognised the voice- Takashi Shirogane, mafia name Kuro. It was him. The male was damn near famous in their city. There were audio recordings and blurry images of him all around the precinct. It would be insane if he managed to arrest /the/ Takashi Shirogane on his first case. He was getting ahead of himself- he should have known. Charging in there was going to be a stupid choice but he wasn’t thinking of anything other than his potential fame. All of the superiors of his that had degraded him and told him he’d amount to nothing would take back their words. He was going to arrest Takashi Shirogane. He had to. There was nothing stopping him. His fame was just one door and a pair of handcuffs away.

 

Perfect. 

Perfect was Shiro’s favorite word. Perfect, perfectly, perfection. He used it when things went well, and he used it when things went sour. A certain amount of oily sarcasm can change just about any positive word into a negative one real quick, and Shiro always felt that a bitter perfect worked just right in any case scenario. 

Perfect had been the word most prominent in his mind as he sat in that rusted metal chair in his favorite warehouse. Of course, this time it wasn’t very negative, because the sale really was going rather smoothly. Every word of his well rehearsed bargaining script left his lips with perfect, casual ease while he spoke with Sendak about buying his considerably large amount of cocaine. He knew Sendak had the cash. He also knew Sendak wanted to take the bite. Of course, the gruff representative of Zarkon’s gang always needed a bit of coaxing -- it was how the man worked. Luckily for Shiro, coaxing was his strong point. 

“This’ll be enough to last the Galra about… hm… I don’t know. A few months or so? Maybe more if you ration. Depending how you split it all up,” Shiro said in a sugary little hum, leaning back into his chair. 

Sendak, as rigidly stoic as ever, narrowed his eye a little. The man was huge -- tall and bulky. His most defining features, however, was the patch over his right eye, and a rather frightening looking prosthetic in place of his left arm. “You said that last time, Kuro,” he grumbled in his heavy, rumbling voice. “It only lasted us a month, and even then the rations were pitiful.” 

Shiro shrugged. “I told you, it all depends on how you split it up. What you sell and don't sell.” 

“And why should I believe you?” Sendak growled. 

“Because,” Shiro hummed, his grin becoming a big sharkish. “I’m the biggest seller in the city. I know my shit, handsome.” 

Sendak’s lips twitched into the softest of smirks. “Then I guess we’ll try this again,” he said slowly, easing his posture a little. He gestured the stash with his prosthetic, the gigantic thing whirring like a beast. “Let’s get this started then.”

Perfect. 

Shiro leaned forward, still smiling with that devilish grin. He lifted his own prosthetic -- a sleek, chrome colored one that he felt put Sendak’s to shame -- and snapped his fingers. A man behind him with long hair and a scar running up his right cheek fell into attention. “Keith,” Shiro said sweetly. “Give the man what he wants.” 

“Yes, sir.” Shiro didn't have to turn and look to see Keith’s smirk -- he could hear it in the man’s tone.

Keith went over to the crates, meeting up with one of Sendak’s men. Shiro glissed his eyes from the stash back over to Sendak, and stood up. He crossed his arm over his chest, and flipped his white bangs from his eyes. 

“As long as we don’t get any trouble from the pigs, I think we’re perfect for business, buddy,” Shiro hummed with a wink. 

God, if only that was the case. 

 

Three people were in the room a least. He could tell that much. Was it going to be foolish to kick open a door with only a pistol when there were at least three armed drug lords inside? Definitely. Would that stop Lance from doing exactly that? No. Inside that door there were three people he could take down and cocaine to be recovered. He would be damn near famous if this was successful. He could take three people.

The adrenaline was stopping him from thinking this through. He kicked open the door and ducked inside, gripping tightly to his gun as his gaze scoured the room.  
“Everyone down on the fucking ground! There are more officers downstairs, you’re surrounded!” Okay, wow, this was definitely a poor choice. Three had been a very, very poor guess. Just from a glance he could see seven people, eight counting someone just out of sight behind Sendak. He grit his teeth and continued regardless. “You have the right to remain silent!” He began though his voice was starting to shake. “A-Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law!”

 

Shiro couldn’t deny he had flinched quite heavily when the door to his right exploded open with a hearty bang. It caught him off guard -- wildly so. Getting caught off guard wasn’t usually something Shiro enjoyed. 

His spiked nerves, however, settled down when he heard the usual ‘everyone down on the fucking ground’ speal. In the trembling voice of a pig, no doubt. Keith, from his peripheral, was already reaching for the gun strapped to his waist. 

“Keith,” Shiro sighed impatiently. “What did I say? No shooting unless I tell you to.” 

Keith looked at Shiro and shrugged. 

The police officer was still barking out the usual orders from behind him, but Shiro didn't quite know if he had the care to even turn around. Sendak’s eye was rolling far back into his skull, his real hand already patting for his gun with the utmost boredom Shiro had ever seen. 

A sharp, “I told you to remain silent!” shouted out from by the door, the boy’s voice still unbelievably tremulous. “Now get down on the ground.” 

Shiro nodded along, shrugging a bit. “I was just telling Keith here not to kill you,” Shiro hummed in a low drawl. He began to turn around. “But if you insist offic-” 

But he stopped. 

Because the officer who stood at the door was absolutely terrified. Shiro recognized the look of pure regret and peril plastered about the man’s face. He stood, legs shoulder width apart, gun held out in his shaking grip. His wide eyes were shifting rather anxiously to each and every other face in the room. He looked incredibly young and fragile to Shiro in that moment. He looked like a man all alone. 

He looked like a man unable to pull a trigger... 

It struck a chord Shiro hadn’t even thought about for what had to be years now. 

 

“Cover your ears, Kuro,” Sendak sighed, the sounds of a gun being cocked joining his grumble. “Let’s waste this guy quick.” 

Lance flinched as he heard Sendak say that. He immediately turned to point his gun at him instead, his finger resting hesitantly on the trigger. He didn’t want to kill someone but it was him or Sendak. He didn’t want to shoot him. He didn’t want to shoot anyone.

Shiro held out a hand towards Sendak. “Let’s not be hasty, Senny-boy,” he said, and relief overwhelmed Lance, his hold loosening slightly. Only slightly.

“Why the hell not?” Sendak snapped, the rage of his little pet name apparent in his thunderous snarl. 

“Duh. Look at him,” Shiro laughed. “He’s, like, seven. And he doesn’t have any backup. And he’s not going to shoot that gun.” 

 

Lance glanced between the two and heat rose to his cheeks in humiliation. He was about to argue indignantly and defend himself, claiming that he would shoot, but he then realised that it would be unbelievably stupid to announce anything like that so he kept quiet. His gaze was fixed on Shiro, though, occasionally flickering to Sendak. Was Takashi genuinely suggesting that they don’t shoot him? He wasn’t a man known for being nice or patient but he was willing to attempt to convince someone who appeared to be his superior not to shoot him?  
He would usually question it but right now he was just thankful that he might not die. Where the hell was the backup? It felt like it had been at least five minutes by now. They should have been there. He gripped tighter to the gun to try to stop his hands from shaking as much.

He was so undeniably stupid. Choosing to kick in that door without backup was stupid. Thinking that he could take out three people was stupid when he can’t even shoot one that threatens his life. He was stupid. He was downright fucking dumb.

Hopefully this would be a tale that he could lie about to impress girls at bars or a funny story to tell others in the precinct. Anything. He was just hoping it wouldn’t be a story told at his eulogy.

 

“So, Officer,” Shiro started up again rather loudly. He turned a sugared smile the officer’s way. “I suggest you lower your gun, and we have a little chat. Wouldn’t want to keep my pal here too antsy. He’s got quite the trigger finger, don’t you Sen?” 

Sendak grunted in return. 

Lance nudged the door shut behind him and moved his finger off of the trigger, losing his stance and releasing the gun with his left hand. He was dead silent, still no idea what to say or do. He held his hands up either side of his head, the gun in his right. He warily eyed the men. He didn’t like being so vulnerable. He didn’t like how Sendak was looking at him. He didn’t like how he felt Takashi was toying with him.

Shiro gave a chuckle. “Atta’ boy,” he said slickly. He began moving forward -- stepping with a slow, grandeur sort of stride. He watched the nervous officer, studying the man’s face up down and around. Soft tawny skin. Long, oval face with a sharp jaw and strong cheekbones. Short brown hair that fell about his forehead in soft tufts and curls. A smaller, cute shaped nose, a bit pointed at the end. Deep blue eyes, twisting with the waves of a boisterous sea from even across the room. 

Cute. 

Shiro stopped and cocked his head. His hand patted for the cigarettes in his pants pocket. “Name?” 

“Kuro this isn’t time to be an ass the little bastard says there's backup-” Sendak started in a growl. 

Shiro held up a hand, and Sendak stopped with an irritated huff. 

Lance had to avoid the instinct to run or to at least move away from Shiro. He was terrified and that much was evident from the look on his face alone but he wasn’t going to step down and lose dominance (not even when he wasn’t sure he had any). He grit his teeth a little. “Lance,” he answered after a moment, using all of his willpower to stop his voice from shaking as he looked up at Takashi. His eyes flickered to the hand at his back pocket and his mind initially went to ‘it’s a gun’ but he tried his hardest not to act like he was thinking about it.

His eyes then flickered up to Takashi’s face. He met strong grey eyes, tormented and exposed to horrors Lance wouldn’t even be able to imagine. His jaw was square and his jawline was sharp. He had a scar, jagged, across the bridge of his nose and lance didn’t even know what it could have come from. His eyes flickered to Takashi’s body for just a moment. He was incredibly well-built. He looked strong, approximately six ft four and 210ibs.

That was when Lance noticed the prosthetic. There were never fingerprints at crime scenes- that must have been why! He would have to tell that to the precinct. He’d need to have someone do an official police sketch of Shiro, too, so they’d know what he looked like.

He wanted to get out of this. He generally wanted to survive but he knew so much information that was valuable to the precinct now. He knew so much. This could help so fucking much. 

His gaze flickered to the others in the room and he took in their faces as much as he could, absorbing the information needed to complete police sketches and have a decent profile of them. He focused back on Shiro as soon as he was satisfied, though, figuring he should focus on the… conversation they were having.

 

Shiro already held the cigarette between his lips, cupping a hand over his mouth as the other tried to start his lighter. Done, he took a long drag, held his breath a moment, and then let it all out in one mesmerising plume of smoke, the cigarette now between his fingers. He gave Lance another smile. 

“Lance, hm?” He said. “Pretty name. I’m sure you already know who I am then, huh pet?” 

He waited for Lance to nod before he continued. 

“Well, Officer Lance, we have a bit of a problem here.” Shiro paused to take another drag. “How about this: I let you live. You keep your mouth shut. We figure out you ratted us out, we cut your tongue off. You like that? Give me your honest opinion. Really.” All of that was said with smoke furling out past his grinning lips. It twisted into the air like a veil, the scent heavy about the warehouse now. 

 

Taking an instinctive step back st the threat, Lance nodded, his eyes flickering warily around the room. “Y-Yes. That is quite an issue. Uh- I- I like the sound of the offer. It’s… it’s very tempting. I like the idea of keeping my tongue, too, that made the offer quite appealing.” He rubbed his arm anxiously, glancing at the door behind him. He wasn’t stupid enough to try to run, thankfully.

“I… mm…” he didn’t know what to say. He could say what he needed and just… stay in the precinct or in a safe house or even in witness protection but… it was too risky. He couldn’t take that risk. He nodded. “I think I’ll have to take you up on that offer for the sake of my tongue. I- Can I get some cocaine or something to take back to the precinct? I only want a small bag of it.” He almost felt how stupid he sounded. Asking fucking mafia drug lords to just give him a little cocaine so that he wouldn’t go back to the precinct empty-handed. “Or someone irrelevant to arrest?” Shut up! Why couldn’t his mouth stop before he said the stupid shit?

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh. He gave a harsh bark of a chuckle, throwing his head back. He looked over his shoulder towards Sendak, giggling a little. “You got someone irrelevant to arrest, Sen?” He laughed. “I’d rather give up your goonies than my cocaine.” 

“We’re not giving that little shit anything. I suggest you figure out your place and get in it, Kuro,” Sendak hissed. The man was becoming quite irritated -- more impatient and rattled than before. Shiro could hear the heated malice arise in his deep, throaty tone. 

It left an unconscious chill darting down Shiro’s spine. The smile left his face quickly and he gave a soft nod, some sense misting into his head, fogging up some of his childish play. He turned back to Lance, taking one last bitter drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground. He stomped on it with his boot, digging it impossibly further into the concrete. 

“Sorry, kid. You heard the boss. Now beat it,” he snapped, harsher and colder than before. Shiro brought up a hand, and pointed a stern finger Lance’s way. “I just saved your Goddamn life officer. I suggest you return the favor and keep your mouth shut. If not for me, then for your tongue.” 

Lance, panicking, nodded and fled. He could be heard running down the stairs, leaving the warehouse once he’d cleared the place. He was sure Sendak and Takashi would have been able to hear his shouting “upstairs is clear! Everyone out!” From where they were. He hoped so. Fuck, he hoped so. 

He was silent on the way back and at the arrival at the precinct. Several people had been arrested and pounds of drugs had been recovered but Lance couldn’t think clearly enough to brag or comment. Instead he promised he’d do the paperwork later and signed out to go home. He needed to be at home. He needed to take a break and think about his options. 

 

The following day he took off work. He decided definitively that he was going to go out and do something to get his mind off of the events of the previous evening. He got into his crappy, rundown car and began on his way to town. He wanted to do some shopping and browse the market to clear his mind. 

He didn’t know where he was headed today because he didn’t know what he needed so he would just… wander. He folded his arms over his chest and sighed softly as he paced around town. 

Pushing open the door to a starbucks, Lance ordered himself a double chocolate frappuccino with cream and, upon collecting it, turned to find somewhere to sit. That was when he noticed the tuft of white hair in the back corner and paled. Shit. He- Where was he supposed to go? Had he been noticed yet? Maybe he could just settle down at a quiet table and keep as hidden as possible. He began sipping on his drink and turned to walk away from Takashi. What the fuck was he doing at a starbucks? 

 

Shiro scrolled through the news networks and all their newest articles on his phone, scanning quickly for any sign of his name. He was slouched in his usual spot in the cafe, elbows on the table, legs crossed, his grande chocolatey-chip frappe sitting just below his chin for the occasional sip. Of course he was dressed in his usual civilian get up -- dark jeans, some random hoodie, and his prescription glasses slipping down the bride of his nose. All he was missing was his hat to hide his bangs. The grey beanie was currently tucked inside of his back pocket, having been removed the moment he had sauntered into his second favorite place to be. He figured he’d be fine tucked away in his corner, as he was every day before that. No one bothered him unless it was to tell him they thought his hair was neat or something. 

Shiro glissed his eyes from headline to headline. From news channel to news channel. He checked local news websites, he checked Google’s popular page, he checked his news app, he checked CNN, he checked NBC. Hell, he even checked Good Morning America. He might have even checked it twice. 

This was his usual process whenever he got a considerably close call with a cop. Especially if it was one of those encounters where he let the officer get away. A rare occurrence, really. He still couldn’t find himself believing what he did the night before. It puzzled him whenever he’d stop to think about it. How… merciful he’d been. In front of Sendak, no doubt. 

Shiro decided to dismiss it as his simple problem with guns. Of course. That was it. That damn officer’s loud entrance had been quite enough on his nerves… imagine how he would have benefitted from an all out gun fight? Without his earplugs? An absolute trainwreck is what that would have been. Shiro didn't actually care about Lance’s life -- all he cared about was the absence of one of those tricky panic attacks, and a good night’s sleep. It made sense. It made sense that it must have been why Sendak obliged to Shiro’s compromise, too. 

Shiro didn't care about that dumb officer. 

Of course, Shiro could tell himself that over and over. He could tell himself that he was just as selfish and cruel as he made it out to be. He could tell himself that, with the opportunity, he could kill that officer with the same ease he could kill all his other victims with. Shiro could lie to himself. 

But he couldn’t deny that soft pang of feeling in his chest when his eyes had met Lance’s. 

Shiro shook his head and leaned back into his chair. Whatever. He would never see the little prick again. Even if Lance did squeal on him, he’d just sent Keith to go collect the officer’s tongue. Keith wouldn’t mind.

Done searching, he clicked his phone off and laid it down on the table. He grabbed his drink and took a long sip, dragging his gaze lazily along the cafe. His eyes caught upon a familiar face, and he choked on his frappe, almost spitting it out on the table. 

Lance. 

Groaning, Shiro ducked down a little, groping for his hat. 

Isn’t this just perfect? 

 

Lance was attempting to hide from Shiro by checking his phone and looking vaguely focused on the shitty article he was reading. He was hoping he would blend in and that Shiro wouldn’t even notice him but his life didn’t usually work out as well as that so he was beginning to doubt it. A lot. 

 

He had no idea what to do. He was honestly panicking. What was he going to do if he was recognised? What would he do if Shiro wanted to talk to him about the previous day? What if Shiro doubted that he had kept quiet? Anxiety and nervousness bubbled up in his stomach and he pushed away his drink, suddenly no longer finding it appealing. 

It was made even worse when his eyes accidentally flickered to Shiro and they made direct eye contact. Fuck. He was definitely fucked now. He didn’t know whether to stay or to leave. Fuck.

 

Shiro knew for certain Lance had seen him. The same nervous composure from the night before stood apparent in the young officer. His shoulders were stiff. His head was ducked down. The occasional glance he’d offer Shiro’s general direction was fleeting and skittish. Shiro watched the man wander about the little coffee shop in the most anxious of manners from the corner of his eye, swearing bitterly to himself in his head. 

Lance meeting Shiro there was bad. Bad for a whole slew of reasons. Lance could tell the cops. Lance could get the word out on the streets. Lance could get Shiro’s secret solitude spreaded throughout the entire Goddamn mafia! Even if Lance kept his mouth shut, Shiro’s frightening reputation had to be blunted at least a little with the casual clothing and those dumb wayfarer glasses sitting atop his nose. That couldn’t happen. 

Shiro couldn’t decide what to do in that moment. He didn't know whether to act oblivious and let the situation pass with ease, or to confront Lance to try and keep his dominant hold on the situation. There were pros and cons to both -- for sure. The alluring idea of just one peaceful day pulled him towards just getting up and leaving. The flaming sense of embarrassment that heated his cheeks at the thought of Lance seeing him as some civilian pulled him towards dragging Lance out towards the back of the building and giving him a beat down for good measure. Both options tossed back and forth in his head as he stole another glare Lance’s way. 

Little did he know Lance had also been looking.

Their eyes met. 

Option two, then. 

Shiro stood up, a theatrically sinister smile curling up his face. He grinned at Lance, scooped up his frappe, and nodded his head towards the back door. He made sure his eyes conveyed the threatening message before shoving his phone in his pocket, and making his confident way to the exit by the check-out. 

 

There was a bored “you can’t really go that way, sir,” from one of the baristas before Shiro slipped through what must have been the smoking break door. He stepped down three concrete stairs, and leaned on the wall beside the door he was sure Lance would come through, already digging for a cigarette. Shiro quickly tried to think of what he’d actually do to Lance, watching the door with a building anticipation…

The look alone had made Lance pale but he followed Shiro nonetheless.He flashed his badge to the lady behind the counter as he disappeared downstairs, slowly and hesitantly making his way down each concrete step. He had about as many reasons for turning around and leaving as there were steps but he didn’t listen and he didn’t turn away. He stopped dead as his eyes met Shiro’s, now at the bottom of the stairs.  
“Look,” he began slowly, cautiously.

“I followed all of the terms of our agreement. I didn’t say a thing about you, I swear,” he was so clearly scared. Terrified, even. He was having a conversation with a mafia drug lord who had threatened to cut his tongue off only the night before. “S-So I don’t see why we have to be here. I wanted a drink and I-I’ll go if-” his voice was shaky and riddled with fear. His body, tense and trembling. “Please. I appreciate what you did for me yesterday. Really, I do. Just- Please- I- Please-” He didn’t even know what he was pleading for. He was just hoping that Shiro would have enough mercy not to kill him or abuse him. He felt like his legs would crumble beneath him at any second.

Shiro listened to Lance’s pleads with a building satisfaction. He still had that officer wrapped around his finger, holding him there with a leash of neat terror. He smiled, tilting his head forward to peer a bit skeptical over the rim of his glasses as Lance finished up his rushed speal of begging. 

“Chill out a bit, kid,” Shiro said slickly once Lance’s weak pleases and reallys faded off into a nervous silence. “Just have to lay down a few facts on you real quick.” 

Lance parted his lips to say something, but Shiro dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He then pointed that hand to the Starbucks they stood beside. “First of all: this? This is my joint. This is the only fucking place I get away from mafia-police drama. If you mess that up I’ll find your house and kill you in your sleep, mm?” He said sharply. “Long painful death, too. Won’t be fun. Believe me.” 

“Second, congrats for not spilling on me. You get to keep your tongue for now.” Shiro paused to take a sip of his drink. Once he was done, he licked his lips, and gestured his nearly empty cup. 

“Thirdly: you’ve got a good taste in drinks. I respect that. I’m not gonna ban you from this Starbucks. Hell, it ain’t even my turf. But I will say this: don’t you ever confront me here. Don’t look at me. Don't wave at me. Don’t even breathe in my general direction. Got that? Is that too much information for your pig brain or no?” 

Lance was quiet for a few moments. “I wasn’t trying to confront you,” he muttered sharply under his breath, “I was just looking at you because I wanted to know if you had seen me.” He kicked at the floor a little and began to turn to go up the stairs. “I get it. I’m going to go.” He felt a lot less panicked knowing that Shiro had no intention to hurt or kill him and that allowed him to relax enough to talk to Shiro like that. He began up the stairs, this meeting having been humiliating enough as it was. 

Shiro thought for a fraction of a moment, watching Lance go, wondering if he should really say the fourth point he had queued in his mind. 

“Wait,” he said in a tired drawl, just as Lance grasped the door handle. “One more thing.” 

Shiro waited until Lance turned around and looked him in the eyes before he could continue. In that moment, Lance’s eyes held the most innocent of swirling confusion and curiosity. It was almost adorable. 

It was almost saddening. 

Sighing, Shiro crossed his arms over his chest. “Be more careful,” he said simply. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in a body bag right about now. I’m not gonna be in every warehouse you bust into. Think about that for next time, alright?”   
Lance watched him as he spoke and confusion poisoned his features and contorted his face.  
“Don’t act like you really care about me,” he said with a small laugh. “And believe me, I’ve learned my lesson. Wait for backup before I charge into a drug dealers hangout. I’d honestly rather not die on my second proper case, especially not after almost dying on my first.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. He was a bit taken aback by Lance’s tone. 

He couldn’t quite explain the sudden spurring of hot anger in his chest. The one that went red in his system and made his head spin and his skin crawl. It had to be how snarkish Lance’s tone had gotten… or maybe the way Lance took the previous precaution as… sympathy. Shiro could feel a shiver run across the flesh of his back at the mere thought of that word. Shiro wasn’t in any way sympathetic to this pig. He didn't care about him. 

Well… he did but that wasn’t the point- 

Shiro tried to dismiss all of that heated pondering with a quick shake of his head, and a hand pressed to his buzzing temple. “Now piss off,” he grumbled, his smile curled downwards into an annoyed sneer. “Let’s never see each other ever again. For your sake.” 

Lance nodded.

“Sounds good,” he mumbled as he began starting upstairs again, wrapping his arms around himself and gritting his teeth a little. God, he was so uncomfortable. He hated this. He’d acted so blatantly vulnerable in front of Shiro for no fucking reason. He ran one hand through his hair as he pushed back through starbucks, heading to the exit. He just wanted to go somewhere to take his attention off of Shiro. Asshole.

 

Shiro watched Lance go, a fit of complex feeling in his chest and a suddenly outraging amount of pain in his head. That stupid little officer gave Shiro a migraine -- of course he gave Shiro a migraine. Shiro swore bitterly under his breath, now standing all alone in that back alleyway. He shuffled his feet, broadened his shoulders, too proud to simply leave but too embarrassed to go back inside that damn coffee shop. He looked down at his plastic cup, empty aside from the whipped cream pooled at the bottom corner. He’d been holding it in his right hand -- his prosthetic hand. 

His mafia hand.

Without thinking, he crushed the whole grande cup in one firm squeeze, the crinkling rip of plastic mingling with the sounds of the city. He tossed it over his shoulder towards the darker part of the alleyway, and smoothed out his jacket. Shiro then left that alley and that Starbucks altogether, angry and bitter and confused. Why Lance had gotten so under his skin like that, Shiro didn't know. He just wanted to get back to his apartment. 

Shiro’s apartment, despite his well paying job, was a bit small. It was your standard two bedroom, one bath with a living area which split off into a kitchen-slash-dining room. He could easily afford much, much better. Somewhere outside the city and away from all of that mafia nonsense. He could even leave the country, if he pleased. He could, quite possibly and quite easily get out. Shiro had enough money now. 

But he couldn’t. It was too risky. In his opinion anyways. 

In reality, of course, it wasn’t very risky at all. To Shiro, however, he felt as though his prosthetic arm could beg to differ. 

After a short trek from Starbucks to his complex, Shiro walked into his apartment, kicked his shoes off on the matt by the door, and proceeded to his couch. He slumped over it and sighed, groping for bottle of Ibuprofen he left on the coffee table. He took two, and closed his eyes, hoping to drift off into a midday nap. Shiro had a job later that night -- a nasty, particularly bloody one, by the sounds of it. Haxus had been caught smuggling heavy stashes of good drugs off to another part of town, and Shiro and Sendak were told to go… take care of the problem. He figured if he was going to sleep at all, it would be before his violent outing with Sendak. 

His rest was interrupted by a pitter pattering of paws upon his wooden flooring, and a meow. Shiro leaned up, opened his eyes, and smiled. 

“Black,” Shiro cooed warmly to the black and white siberian cat who made her lazy way up to the couch. Shiro patted his chest, and Black leapt up on top of him, purring contently as Shiro rubbed her head. 

Sighing again, Shiro laid his head back against the cushion of his chair. If only he could just stay home that night. If only he could drop his act. His false confidence. If only he could just lie there with Black curled up on his chest. If only the upcoming job he dreaded was a stupid one like selling cars or teaching kids their ABCs. If only the thoughts of Lance in his head were the ones normally associated with dumb high school crushes rather than hot, prideful embarrassment and contempt towards the universe. If only. 

Oh well. Whatever. His if onlys were merely if onlys. His buried dreams were merely buried dreams. His act was still rolling. He had a job to do and it was bloody and dangerous. His feelings towards Lance were strictly professional, and even quite hateful. 

The show must go on. 

Shiro picked up Black and gently placed her on the ground. He stood up, stretched and yawned, and then made his way to the bathroom for a shower. It was a bit too early to get ready for the job, but Shiro didn't care too much.

He’d rather keep his mind busy. 

 

Lance had gotten home a few hours later than expected. His habit of impulse buying meant that he now had many bags hanging off his arms. One was full of skin and hair products alone. He grumbled a little, cursing himself for having been so selfish and blind to the potential financial consequences. He’d need to avoid shopping anywhere for a month after this.  
He ditched the bags in his room and shut the door to his apartment. His place wasn’t much nicer than Shiro’s but that wasn’t a choice of his. He’d not had much money until he’d gotten this job and, as he was still pretty damn new at it, he had only started earning large amounts. As if that wasn’t enough pressure to budget and be cautious with his money, some of his siblings had run into trouble and needed money and Lance, ever generous, was the one to send it.

He slumped down on the sofa, waking up Blue- a husky with one blue and one brown eye. The dog was incredibly happy to see him back and began jumping, barking, getting shushed but ignoring it. Her fluffy tail was going wild. Well, Lance thought to himself, At least there’s someone who’d always happy to see me. He pat the sofa and the dog leapt up, beginning to jump around and soon just dropping on top of Lance, all of her weight on the male who, suffocating, pet the hound weakly. He wasn’t in the mood to play today so he began rambling to Blue about every issue he’d had that day- meeting Shiro, being threatened and degraded, then spending so much money that he’d be eating breakfast at the precinct out of vending machines for at least a week.

Blue, of course, only listened. She watched Lance and licked his hand whenever it was close enough, her ears flat against her head as she realised she wasn’t going to be receiving many pets

“You don’t understand, Blue! He drives me insane! Takashi Shirogane, known mafia drug lord, etcetera, is blackmailing me! He’s brutal and he’s rude but he’s charming and surprisingly suave- and his voice! Oh, don’t get me fucking started!” Blue whimpered at the tone of Lance’s voice and he frowned, taking a few deep breaths. “Sorry, Blue. Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

He stood up from his shabby sofa and plodded on the creaky wooden floor toward the kitchen, only different from the living room because of the flooring. He picked up the dog bowl and filled it with the food, acting like a zombie. His brain just wasn’t cooperating with him lately- not since he’d met with Takashi. He couldn’t take his mind off of him! He just kept thinking about how he’d been so casual and mocked him so easily! Lance wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t anything Takashi made him out to be- he’d had to do so many exams and studied so much to become a member of the police force and he hated how he was laughed at for it. Dog biscuits began to spill out of the bowl and a few rolled off the counter onto the floor. Lance looked at the overflowing bowl and began throwing biscuits back in the box.

He just couldn’t focus anymore. Not even on a menial, daily task like feeding his dog. He set the bowl down and sat on the floor in the kitchen, closing his eyes.

He’d call in sick for work again tomorrow. He wasn’t in the right mindset to go back just yet- all the risks of doing police work poorly and having to endure the consequences? Ugh. No thanks. He’d rather sit in bed, watch Netflix, and eat ice cream all day with Blue curled up on his lap.


	2. The Worst Luck

Shiro was in a considerably better mood the following day.

An odd occurrence, though, really. After what he had to do to Haxus, and after all those hours of washing blood from his hands and fingernails, Shiro figured he would wake up dazed and unhappy. Even after the cocaine he had shared with Sendak once the job was done, Shiro loathed the idea of tomorrow.

Despite everything though, Shiro slept well -- which was most likely from the drugs -- and when he woke up the next morning, he was fairly content. He fed Black with a smile on his face. He showered, and he didn't grimace at the blood splotches still stained about the tub. He ate breakfast without a churn in his stomach. He watched the news as he dressed himself, and even grinned at sight of the top story.

Man found dead in his apartment. Appears to have ties to a mafia group called the Galrans. Traces of drugs and the murder weapons were found at the crime scene. No fingerprints, or any other signs of the killer. Police are working hard on the case.

A perfect job, if he had to say so himself. There was not a trace of his being there -- Shiro made sure of that. None of his own guns or bullets. None of his own knives or shanks. None of his fingerprints, of course. On top of all of that, Shiro had been paid rather handsomely for it all, too. That, combined with the money from Zarkon for his drugs, all evened together nicely. He figured he might as well take a trip to the mall after his daily visit to the coffee shop. Buy himself some new coats or a pair of boots. Buy Black a new collar and maybe a toy or two.

Shiro, still smirking to himself, pulled on a sleek leather jacket -- his favorite one to wear out. He scratched Black's head, and told her he loved her and he'd see her later. Shiro then went to his door, slipped on his Harley Davidson boots from his matt, grabbed his backpack, and left his apartment, Starbucks bound.

Nothing could ruin this strangely perfect mood, as it seemed.

As it seemed.

Lance stayed in bed until late morning, almost afternoon. Then he got up and dressed in loose clothes. He didn't want to go out today, he'd learned his lesson from yesterday, and instead just settled onto the couch. Then, hearing familiar yapping, he remembered that he'd need to take Blue for a walk. He kicked on his shoes and stood.

He was still in his mood from the night before. He felt miserable. He wasn't actually sure how he felt- he just knew that he wanted to get this walk over and done with. He left his apartment and started on the walk to town. He took Blue to town and back and usually got some fruit when he arrived as a treat for walking Blue. That was his intent- go there and back and then seal himself away in his room again immediately afterwards.

Just as Shiro thought, Haxus's downfall was all over every news website he checked. He ran through each and every one, smiling giddily with every "no sign of the killer..." or "police are stumped..." he'd come across. It was almost like candy.

Shiro's mood held strong even after his daily frappuccino. He walked through the streets of his bustling city with a slight hop in his step and a visible confidence in his composure. Even when he passed the more notorious precincts he'd usually treat with caution, Shiro kept his head up, and his stride did not falter. He even considered taking off his hat and flipping off one of the cameras -- but he knew it'd be stupid, so he decided against it with a snicker.

Shiro's favorite deli was a quaint little place on 7th Avenue. It was far from his apartment complex, and a bit too close to those tourist attractions for his liking, but their Italian subs made it a bit easy to ignore the long journey on the smelly subway and the annoying tourists asking him where the very noticeable Empire State Building was located. He figured he deserved the treat, and after he'd do a bit of shopping for himself.

So he rode the subway all the way to Midtown. He dealt with the crowds with his headphones and his good mood as a crutch. He ordered his sub, ate about half, and stuffed the rest of it in his bag for dinner. Then, with all that money burning a hole in his pocket, Shiro searched around for a place to shop.

He went in and out of big name stores, buying anything he felt pleased with. Shiro popped into small mom and pop shops, too, liking the homemade clothing and jewelry. He bought himself a designer coat, some jeans, a pair of earrings or two, and a pair of nice new shoes. He bought Black a new pendant for her collar, a new set of dining bowls, and an array of electronic mouse toys that could run rampant around the apartment and entertain Black for hours while Shiro was working. All good purchases, he had to admit. Most were small enough to fit in the jacket's bag too, so he didn't have to worry much about carrying the load. He had cruised all the way up and down Midtown, growing hungrier and hungrier as the hours passed and his energy lessened.

His stomach was growling. The thought of that Italian sub in his pack suddenly had the power to make his mouth water. That provolone cheese. That deli sliced Salami. That warm, New York style Italian bread. All lathered in a coating of red wine vinegar and dashes of salt and pepper. Absolutely enticing.

He was walking through a lesser populated area, his mind clouded with the thoughts of his sub, his eyes searching for the green railing of subway stairs. His mood had not soured at all. His mood was perfect.

Until he heard a shout from behind him.

"Blue! Stop!"

Lance's walk had been going fine. He was trudging along while Blue was trotting and he rubbed his eyes, groaning. It was only when he got to town and Blue caught the scent of the dreaded Italian sub and almost tore his arm off, the leash slipping from his grasp as the dog bolted toward where the source of the smell came from. He'd only barely managed to cry out for the dog to stop before she leapt up and knocked him over. Immediately, her nose was pressed into the bag and Lance jogged over. She sat in front of him, tail wagging excitedly as she held the sub, still wrapped, in her mouth. Her tongue hung out of the side of her mouth and she looked extremely proud of herself.

Lance ordered her to drop it and picked it up from the floor.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm so sorry. She never does that, I have no idea what happened," he looked at the male on the floor and paled, breathing out "oh for fucks sake"as he began taking a few steps back. He still held the stolen sandwich in his hands, Blue jumping up at him and sniffing at it, still trying to eat it out of his hand and he was a second away from just giving it to her. He felt like he was going to cry. Why could he never just get a peaceful fucking day out?

Shiro pushed up from the ground fast, his heart suddenly beating twice its normal rate.

Something had jumped on him. Of course, with all of the obvious facts surrounding the 'attack', it wouldn't take much brains for one to figure out he'd been jumped on by a dog. The animal-like panting. The feeling of a slobbery tongue licking the side of his face. The snuffling of a dog in search of food in his bag. It was extremely obvious what had happened -- someone had lost control of their dog, and it had pounced on him for his sub.

But Shiro's head screamed Zarkon.

When he pushed up from the ground and spun around, his eyes searched in a panicked dissare for a member of Zarkon's gang to launch at him again. His prosthetic was buzzing, activated by the sudden rush of adrenaline pumped throughout his system. Shiro searched for his attacker, prepping his body for a fight, but instead found the obvious dog he had overlooked. He dragged his eyes upwards, and there stood the dog's owner, the man's frantic apologies lost behind the blood in Shiro's ears.

Lance's face looked down at him.

"Jesus Christ!" Shiro shouted, sitting up straight. His voice was breathless, but the panic about his tone did nothing to dull that hot rage either. "You? Again?"

Lance flinched at his voice, his eyes flickering from Shiro's face to his arm to the sandwich in his hands. He was shaking. He was so clearly, clearly terrified. The way Shiro had acted and the frantic fear he'd seen the man exhibit followed so closely by anger- he was shaking. Shiro was erratic, unpredictable, it scared him. He took a step back and held out the sandwich at arms length for him to take.

"I'm sorry! I'm really, really sorry! Blue never does that!" He said again, just needing to insist that he hadn't meant anything and he hadn't wanted to upset Shiro- he hadn't even wanted to interact but he was never lucky enough to get what he wanted.

His hands were shaking as he waited for Shiro to take the sub. Tears were in his eyes, the sudden fear from hearing Shiro's loud tone pushing him over the edge to bring tears to his eyes. "Please- Please, I'm sorry," he was trembling. He hated the fear that gripped him and he hated how he couldn't do anything about it. He was a pathetic person and an even more pathetic police officer. "I'll give you money to buy a new one if you want! Please! Please..." he grit his teeth to try to keep the tears from escaping.

Shiro watched the way Lance fell apart, and his seizing anxiety seemed to ease. The tightness of his chest relaxed, and then morphed into a cool, blue sorrow for the tears he saw welling in Lance's eyes. Shiro's stance slumped, a long, softer sigh escaping his lips as he tried to ground himself some more. He put a hand on his prosthetic, and cast his gaze downwards.

"Shut up," he grumbled slowly, rolling his eyes. "Your dog just fucking freaked me out, that's all." Shiro started to stand up, gathering his stuff together.

Now standing, he looked down to Lance's dog and sneered, brushing himself off. "Figures you're a fucking dog person," he said bitterly. The dog looked up at him, its tongue lolling from the side of its mouth. He petted its head with lazy distaste, adjusting his pack on his shoulder. "Keep the damn sandwich. Your dumb dog got slobber all over it anyways. You owe me. Big time."

Lance cowered back, using his foot to push Blue behind him protectively. He opened the packet and set the sandwich down for Blue, knowing that she'd not forgive him if he threw it out (she could hold a surprisingly good grudge for a fucking dog). He bit his tongue hard.  
"I'm sorry. I-I swear, I am. What can I do to make it up to you? I- I'm sorry-" he couldn't stop himself from apologising so much. It was an impulse at this point- apologise again and again until Shiro forgave him- it was how he had dealt with issues from his superiors all of his life and Shiro would be no different. He just knew it was the best way to deal with more domestic conflicts without having them turn aggressive.

Shiro shrugged. He had successfully calmed himself, but his previously indestructible mood had crumbled. His mindset had retreated backwards into that bitterness from the night before. "It's fine, Lance," he muttered tiredly. "Just... just don't ever let your dog do that ever again. Surprising a jumpy mafia drug lord is the best way to get a knife in your neck."

Lance nodded. "Blue doesn't normally do that... The leash just- just slipped out of my hand..." he mumbled, kneeling down beside the dog and petting her gently. She'd finished the sandwich by now and looked up at him with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, absolutely glowing with pride and happiness having eaten so much. "Yeah, smile now, but you're not having lunch for that," he muttered to her, smiling softly as he began coaxing his fingers through her hair, eyes full of love. At least now she'd know who he was always complaining about. He stood, taking his wallet from his pocket. "How much was the sandwich? That was my fault so I want to pay you back..."

Shiro rolled his eyes again, but then he threw them off to the side. He felt an odd heat rise to his face at Lance's earnesty. It was almost like kindness. Kindness and pity inspired by terror, Shiro had to suppose, but still kindness. That bitter crackle of hatred in his chest almost warmed into a swelling of comfort for the shortest of moments. His hand, still keeping a nice hold on his prosthetic with the shopping bag about it's wrist, clenched a little. That was a weird feeling, he had to admit. An old feeling. A just vaguely familiar one.

A nice one.

But, quickly after that, was a pang in his gut. A swift no from his mind. No.

You don't get to feel like that, Takashi. Not anymore.

Not after who you let yourself become.

He rocked on his heels, anxious to leave Lance with all of that sudden self loathing running rampant in his system.

"I don't need your money," he mumbled, still not letting his eyes meet Lance's imploring ones. His voice sounded quieter than normal. Shiro tried to buff it up some more. "I have enough to go around. I'll just order in or something."

There was a pause.

"Are we done here?" Shiro added quickly.

Lance glanced up at him, a little surprised, and shot his glance down to the ground again. He nodded coyly.

"If there's nothing else you need to discuss, yeah," he mumbled. He felt so stupid for having this happen, even if it was entirely Blue's fault. Fuck. "Sorry, I'll go." He whistled for Blue who looked up at him before making a dash for freedom, almost pulling Lance's arm off as he diverted her course and set her on route to go back home. If she kept up this behaviour, she might actually pull his arm off. Then he'd have a prosthetic like Shiro. Stumbling as his dog dragged him along, Lance shot one last glance behind him at Shiro, making sure he wasn't being followed before focusing back on just going home.

Shiro watched Lance's back. He watched Lance look over his shoulder. He locked eyes with the officer for the slightest fraction of a moment, and then he spun around on his heel, bitterly searching for a subway station.

Shiro was bitter the whole way home. He was bitter in the subway cars. He was bitter on the walk to his apartment. He was bitter with every ding the elevator made as it climbed up the floors. He was bitter when he unlocked the door to his darkened apartment, the TV still on the news channel from the morning.

The apartment was quiet aside from the soft jingle of Black's pendant, and the pitter pattering of her feet. As Shiro closed the door, she slinked from the shadowy hall that led to his bedroom and up to his legs. She rubbed on him, already purring and chirping.

With a slow sigh, Shiro leaned down and scooped her up. He held her against his chest, and rubbed at her cheeks and beneath her ears. "I've got something for you," he said gently -- sounding tired. "Something nice for your collar. Some new bowls. Some toys to play with. You like that?"

Black leaned into his petting hands, purring heavily, eyes closed and content.

"At least I can love you without feeling guilty," Shiro murmured.

Shiro gave a quick kiss to her head, and set her back down -- only resulting in a protesting meow from the cat in question. He ignored her, however, and made his way to the bathroom. It was only five in the afternoon, but Shiro felt spent. He felt haggard and dreary. Both physically and emotionally he lacked his certain strength and energy he'd usually carry about. Just then, all he could really think about was a hot shower, and then curling up in his bed for the next ten years or so.

He stripped, he showered his long, long shower, and then he dried himself off. He slipped on some boxers in his room, and then slumped down in his mattress. Shiro pulled the blankets up, and tried to fall asleep, not really hungry anymore.

The sheets needed cleaning. The blanket needed cleaning. The pillowcases needed cleaning. They all had the softest scent of copper to them -- that gentle whiff of the eerily familiar metallic smell.

The smell of blood.

God, he was so okay that morning. Why then did Shiro begin to feel the guilt of Haxus? He didn't even care about Haxus. He didn't care about the man's pleads or his begging or his cries or his terror. He... he didn't...

This was all Lance's fault.

Shiro didn't know why or how but the pitiful little officer kept doing things to him. Every time they'd meet, Lance would knock down a barrier separating Shiro's indifference and Shiro's heavy guilt, and the two would combine in the ugliest of ways. He didn't care. But he did. Oh God, how he cared.

Shiro lifted a hand up to his forehead and groaned to himself. That stupid look in Lance's eyes. God, that stupid, stupid look. If it wasn't for that innocent sparkle, Lance would have been dead, and Shiro wouldn't have been feeling like such garbage.

Please, he silently pleaded. Don't let me see Lance ever, ever again.

Shiro didn't know if anyone was listening.

Lance wasn't much better off. After scolding Blue for her behaviour and proceeding to ramble about Takashi for the next half an hour, he slumped down and into bed. He curled up, lying there with a blank expression, his phone dinging with texts every few seconds. It was Hunk, of course it was, asking him if he was okay or if he needed company. He turned his phone off to silence the ringing and left it on the floor. Blue soon hopped up and lay on top of him (slightly suffocating him) and Lance wrapped his arms around her, needing some kind of affection and Blue was the perfect cuddling size. For a dog, anyway. He slowly managed to fall asleep, relieved that his brain was allowing him to take a break from his thoughts.

 

He usually didn't dream so he didn't expect nightmares, but his sleep was plagued with the images of guns being held to his head by a familiar face with empty eye sockets. He was surrounded by Shiro's, all of them holding guns to his head and threatening him with different things- coming back, letting Blue too close, talking about him, anything. Fear gripped him as he slept, shaking. He imagined Shiro stepping on his chest and holding out a gun, the weight on his chest being so real (because of Blue lying on him) that he felt genuine fear. He opened his mouth to plead, begging for the nightmare to end, only for the trigger to be pulled and finally, he woke up, tears spilling down his face.

What the fuck...

 

The next day, Shiro found himself in the presence of Zarkon.

The events leading up to that meeting were blurred. Shiro remembered waking up from a restless slumber, feeding Black, and then getting a phone call from a protected number. Next thing he knew, he was standing before Zarkon and Sendak, his posture straight and his nerves spiked. The time in between almost seemed a sort of nonexistent. Simply lost to his terror fueled obligation to Zarkon and his empire.

Shiro stood in a rather large office of sorts. A study, maybe. Below his dulled shoes was an expensive, persian carpet. Around his stock-still form were lavish paintings encased in great oak frames upon the dark walls. To his left was a cackling fireplace, laughing at him from behind its grated bars, casting a bouncing shadow about the room. Before him was a grand desk, hand carved with artist perfection.

Behind the desk was Zarkon.

If Sendak was intimidating, Zarkon was downright terrifying. Large and gruff and marked with scars. Deep, merciless eyes that bored holes into Shiro's skin with even a simple glance. His voice was grating and gravily. His whole presence reeked with power.

Beside Zarkon stood Sendak, holding the same attentive posture as Shiro did. Only Sendak's seems to glow in the presence of his master. All the pride, respect, and dignity shined clearly upon his face.

"Kuro," Zarkon said in his deep, terrifyingly alluring tone. "I have a new assignment for you. Just you."

Shiro swallowed hard. "An important one, I guess," he said quietly. "Important enough to meet in person."

Zarkon smiled. It was chill inducing. "Yes. Indeed," he hummed with a nod. "As Sendak tells me, there has been some trouble with specific police officers lately. Is that true?"

Shiro flicked a quick and wild glance Sendak's way, but the man paid no attention. "I guess so," Shiro admitted. "There was only one problem. One time. And I handled it."

"You let the officer live," Sendak butted in.

"I handled it," Shiro snapped with sudden malice. He turned his attention back to Zarkon. "Didn't see any reason to kill him. Blackmailed him instead. The pig is suffering, I assure you."

"Didn't see any reason to kill him? He saw you, K-"

Zarkon rose a hand, stopping Sendak short. He then spoke instead. "Well, Kuro. I've called you here today to tell you I see good reasons to kill Lance Mcclain. And I want you to do it. Redeem yourself."

Shiro didn't answer. His mouth went dry. His words escaped him.

Leaning back in his chair, Zarkon snapped his fingers. Sendak responded with scooping up a duffle bag that had been sitting listlessly by his feet. He placed it on the table.

"In this bag is everything you need for tonight. Disguise. A gun. Earplugs. Bleach and cleaning supplies. Gloves. Lance's address. Once you've killed him, make his place spotless, and dump his body in the river. I want nobody to know what happened to him. Call me, and tell me when you're finished."

Zarkon paused, his eyes heavy on Shiro's stoic features.

"Can you handle that, Takashi?"

Shiro felt an intense shudder rip through his skin at the sound of his name. Next came a pang in his stomach. A quick flash from his past. A soft, ghosting pain from an arm that wasn't there.

"Yes, sir."

Lance had gone to work that day. He'd documented his entire meeting with Shiro on a notepad hidden in his desk, needing to get it out of his system. Today he wrote the new experience, adding every detail he could remember. He poured his entire incoherent brain into writing it, adding details like Takashi's clothing, his demeanour, everything. He'd found himself drawing him everywhere, his drawings ranging from small sketches of his grin with his hair sharp and sticking up in awkward directions to drawings similar to police sketches- where he left no detail forgotten.

He included the glint in his eyes, the malicious grin with the abnormally sharp canines, the several ear-piercings and the jagged scar. He made sure the tuft of white hair only went slightly past his purple eyes and that his black hair ended just above his ear, where his undercut took over. He drew him incessantly when doing his paperwork, when on his break, he just couldn't stop thinking about him.

"Who is that?" Hunk would ask as he leant over his shoulder and picked up a sheet. "Your new boyfriend? You've drawn him an awful lot," he mocked and teased often, handing the paper back after holding a picture over his face and dramatically asking Lance to marry him or something similar. Lance snatched the sheet back before Pidge could wander over and join in the ridicule.

 

From the fifth remark onward, he began stuffing each drawing into his bag or his drawer and out of Hunk's reach. He submitted minimal work and left without a word, walking alongside Allura.

"What's wrong, Lance? You've barely been yourself today. I suspect something happened at the warehouse but- but I can't help unless you tell me what happened," she said for the umpteenth time that day, continuing through to the elevator. Lance laughed softly.

"Believe me, 'Lura," he said as he leant against the wall. "I'd tell you it all if I could. I'd stand in front of everyone and shout about what had happened if I could. However, I do quite like having my tongue and if I want it to stay that way, I'll need to not talk about it." The elevator doors opened and he got out, walking ahead of her as she sputtered and tried to get his attention again.

Lance settled into his blue car and flicked the engine on, starting back home. He got McDonalds on his way back and parked outside his apartment complex, bringing his half-eaten dinner with him. He got to his apartment and sat down on his couch, giving Blue a fry every so often. Then he finished eating and lay back, his bag falling out and papers spilling- not that Lance noticed the papers that empties themselves onto the floor. Images of Shiro were now lying on his floor, out in plain sight, soft notes added about his voice or his eyes or any noticeable detail. It almost seemed like he was obsessed- but Lance just wanted to get the thoughts out so they'd stop plaguing his mind.

He lay back on his couch and rubbed his eyes.

Lately he'd been falling asleep here more than on his actual fucking bed. It was probably an instinct to stay out of his bedroom where he slept by a window without a lock- he didn't want to be assassinated in his sleep. Dozing off to that thought (reassuring, right?) Lance trusted his life with Blue and pure optimism that Shiro would genuinely not kill him unless he ran his mouth or got anyone else arrested.

A foolish choice, really, to trust someone like that with anything.

Lance's apartment was near Midtown. A lengthy walk from the popular tourist trap, but near enough. Shiro could have figured that, though. It was where they had met the day before.

Shiro didn't need to take the subway. Zarkon had provided Shiro with a car. It was a shabby old Audi, the black paint dulled and the motor a bit grumbly. The leather interior of the seating was worn out and reduced to ugly scratches and patches of stains. It had a musty smell to it — the smell of an older person. The heavy scent almost carried the feeling of death, the stuffy air tasting as though it was a corpse itself. The life of that car had died a long time ago.

Shiro made sure he cracked the windows a bit before heading on his way.

He was dressed in black. Black pants, black boots, black hoodie, black gloves, and a black bandana pulled over the bottom half of his face. Around his neck had been his professional grade ear plugs. The best the world could offer. They would press into his ears, and cling there, muffling roughly 75-80% of the noise. They, unmatching his outfit, were a deep purple, chord and all.

Around Shiro's hip was a gun. It was a simple Beretta M9, equipped with a stout little silencer. Also supplied by Zarkon.

In the passenger seat was his duffle bag, a canister of bleach, rubber cleaning gloves, towels, soap, and a large, plastic trash bag.

A perfect little assasination kit.

Shiro had something else, though. He had managed to swing by that lovely deli, and get his Italian sub from before. It was split in half -- one wrapped up and sitting neatly upon his dashboard for later, and one wrapped up in the duffel bag for Blue. It was to keep the dumb thing quiet and content for one thing. Another reason, however, was his nagging conscious. Shiro didn't quite know what he would do with Lance's dog after Lance was dead. He knew allowing the canine to chomp on its favorite meal would lessen some of the guilt for whatever it was. Whatever Shiro had to do to it.

He pulled up two blocks from Lance's apartment building. Shiro walked the rest of the way, sticking to shadows and alleyways, and keeping keen watch out for security cameras. He found the right complex, and scoured the building for a fire escape.

Rightmost side. Just as Zarkon said.

Shiro began to scale it, counting the floors as he climbed each flight. The stairways were steep and harrowing, but Shiro kept his breath steady the whole way up. Finally, on the sixth flight, Shiro approached the right floor window.

The window didn't lead directly into Lance's apartment, rather out in the hall that Lance's room split off from. The window was easy to get into — an awkward squeeze, of course, but easy to pick. He tiptoed quietly through the heavy carpeted hallway, scanning the doors. Keith was dealing with the cameras from a van a few more blocks down, so Shiro didn't worry about them. 

6E... 6E... His mind told him Lance's apartment number in a repeating, walking-dead like mantra. It was the only thing his mind was telling him. All else had been cleared for business.

6E... 6E...

All else had to be cleared, in order to perform his task.

6E.

There it is.

Shiro began working at the lock with ease.

Lance had a simple, police issued security system. Keith's mission was to take care of it the same way he took care of the security cameras -- and to do it without any sort of detection. If Keith had been able to deactivate the alarms in time, Shiro could get in and out without a single peep of a whirling siren. Whether he did or not, Shiro didn't really know in the moment. He didn't quite care enough to check in through the comms anyways. His earplugs were already in, and talking aloud could jeopardize his delicate position. Shiro would just have to trust Keith got his damn job done.

There was a soft click, and the knob turned with ease.

Reluctantly, Shiro eased the door forward. There was no sign of alarm -- the dark peacefulness of Lance's apartment remained tranquil. He slipped through the doorway with tentative ease, and pulled it shut behind him. He then felt along the wall for a lightswitch, and gently flipped the first one his finger met.

Instantly, the area to his right lit up with the flick of his finger. It was the kitchen portion of Lance's tiny apartment. Little counter space, a small little breakfast bar, an old fridge tucked up in the corner. The tiny space branched off from the living room, which laid out just in front of him -- still dim. It was nothing grand -- a coffee table, a smaller television set, a shaggy carpet. Shiro ran his eyes about the apartment before him, his eyes settling on the couch.

Shit.

Lance was on the couch.

He was sleeping quite soundly, to Shiro's great praise, sprawled about on his little blue sofa, snoring gently into the cushions.

Beside Lance was Blue, laying on the floor. She had just begun to lift her head from her paws, cocking her head at him. Shiro couldn't quite hear if she made any sorts of noises from the deadening of his headphones, but he could tell from her body language she hadn't meant any harm. He dug into his duffel bag, and held out her treat as he made his slow way over to the couch. Blue, her loyalty to Lance a bit stunted, took the bribe, and happily licked at the wrapping, getting inside to the vinegar and ham.

With Blue taken care of, Shiro moved to Lance. He crept alongside the sofa until he stood just over the officer's dozing form. The man's head was turned to the the side, his features listless and relaxed, his mouth parted ever so slightly against the rougher fabric of the couch. Lance's eyes were closed delicately, and they turned and rolled beneath his lids as though he was dreaming. His breaths were soft and even. His arms had been wrapped around his chest. His right leg was on the sofa, while his left leg had fallen over the side. He was in his uniform. Lance's badge shinned dully in the lame light.

So that was how he was going to look when he died.

Shiro shouldn't have thought that. It caused a sharp pain in his stomach, which triggered a wave of swift dread to overcome his previously stoic system. He grit his teeth, and turned his head quickly to the side, desperately searching for something he could mentally grasp onto. Something to ground him.

His eyes caught onto an array of drawings spread across the coffee table.

Good drawings. Sketches and doodles, but professional and talented drawings nonetheless. Pencil graphite. Highlighters. Pens of all colors. All of them of the same thing. All of them of the same person.

All of them were Shiro.

Shiro had to turn back, the drawings not really helping his mindset much at all. How were they supposed to make him feel? Weirded out? Flattered? Scared? Angry? Confusion bloomed thickly in his mind and chest, swaying his mission even more.

He glissed his gaze from the dozing, dreaming Lance, back down to the dog. She was nearly done with her portion of her sub. Soon she'd be looking for more.

Feeling something like panic now, Shiro pulled the gun from his hip, and turned to Lance once more. He held it out in front of him, letting the nose of the silencer hover just above Lance's forehead. He didn't know how much he'd been trembling until he had seen how jittery the pistol had been as he cocked it and switched it from safety mode. Shiro laid his finger on the trigger, and sucked in a deep breath, planning on squeezing it tight with his exhale.

Hesitation plagued his whole body. His joints were stiff. His mind was whirling. His finger was stuck. His lungs compressed inside of him, still holding in his previous gulp of air.

The dog was ripping at the wrapping for more in his left peripheral. The drawings of him shone clearly in his right one. Lance was dreaming -- scrunching his nose and furrowing his brow in his sleep. Shiro's finger was on the trigger. He didn't breathe.

Things began spinning. Things began tilting. Shiro's breath was heavy in his chest. His finger was heavy on the trigger. He couldn't quite tell which was heavier.

Drawings. Sub. Dog. Lance. Dreams. Trigger. Lance. Drawings. Dog.

Breathe, Shiro. Do it. Breathe.

Gun shots. Haxus. Blood. Drugs. Zarkon. Blood. So much blood. Zarkon. Pain.

Breathe.

Lance. Dreams. Lance. Nightmares.

Breathe!

Shiro exhaled, but instead of pressing his finger down, Shiro relaxed his whole arm. His whole body even. His shoulders slumped. His knees wobbled. His head hung down on his neck. Only then did he realize how angrily his heart had been beating, and how loud the raging blood was behind the earplugs.

He holstered his gun, and he pulled his earplugs from his ears. He pulled the bandana down from his face and quietly gulped for air. Shiro struggled to keep his breathing even and quiet as he gasped for lost breath. He took a few steps backwards, a hand to his pounding head. A few long moments passed where Shiro simply tried to recover from the sudden rush of panic and memory. Lance's snores were a calming white noise to latch onto, so he listened to those gentle ins and outs, unconsciously matching with him.

When he was grounded and steady, Shiro stepped forwards, and knelt down beside Lance. He removed his gun from his holster and stuffed it in his duffel bag, zipping it up tight. He then turned back to Lance, brought his hand up and delicately placed it upon Lance's shoulder.

Shiro inhaled.

And on his easy exhale, he shook Lance a bit.

"Wake up, Lance," he hissed quietly. "You're in danger."


	3. Failure

Stirring, Lance whined at the need to wake up before he processed the voice and jolted, flinging himself onto the floor and moving to the other side of the room. "Y-You- You're- M-My apartment-" he was shaking, suddenly pale, looking terrified. Oh god. Oh god, Shiro was going to kill him. His eyes flickered across his outfit to the duffel bag and he paled further, trembling, tears welling up in his eyes. Blue had finished licking the wrapper clean and stood by Shiro, her tail wagging, for more to eat. She yapped happily, jumping up on her back legs and waving her paws at him. Lance whistled for her but she ignored him, sniffing Shiro to see if he had more food on him. It wasn't unreasonable of him to react this way- not when a mafia drug lord who'd threatened him multiple times had broken into his apartment and had clearly been planning on killing him.

 

"I-I-" he glanced around him, looking for something to use as a weapon but all that was in reach were the fucking drawings. He bit his lip as he turned his fearful gaze back to Shiro. "Please don't kill me- I- I swear I've done everything you told me to!" He could barely breathe, spiraling. He couldn't die here. He didn't want to die like this. He didn't want to die at all. He still had a job and he had his friends and he had to apologise to Allura for being rude and-

He curled up, trying to steady his breathing, trying to focus, tugging on his own hair as if the slight pain would help him ground himself. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He needed to focus. He needed to stop Shiro from killing him but he couldn't get his mouth to work with his brain. All he could think was that he was going to die here, by Shiro's hand. Fuck. Fuck, he was so scared. So fucking terrified. He couldn't die. He didn't want to die.

Shiro viewed Lance's utter terror and disarray with a bad taste in his mouth. But it wasn't annoyance... no. It was a morph between guilt and pity, both mending together to create an ugly burn in his chest. It didn't feel very good against the ghost of his panic from earlier.

So he rose his hands, arms bent at a 90 degrees angle by his head. A notorious look of surrender, but also a signal of peace. He relaxed his features, and tried hard to soothe his tone — almost hoping for the same voice he'd use to speak to Black.

"Lance, I'm not here to hurt you," he murmured softly.

A lie? Not really. Shiro figured it wasn't in that moment. He didn't really ever think he intended on killing Lance in the first place. It was why he had such a defined plan of action already formed about in his mind. Shiro had been unconsciously planning how to get around assassinating Lance all night.

"Look," he continued. "You're in a lot of danger right now. Mafia wants you dead. I need you to pack yourself a bag. You're going to have to disappear for awhile."

Lance's eyes fixed on Shiro and he scanned his face to see if he was lying or not. He rubbed his eyes to get rid of his tears, shooting his gaze to the floor.

"Were you going to kill me?" He asked softly, his voice only barely above a whisper as he picked up a bag, absently doing what Shiro told him to. After this he was going to move away and get as many locks and security measures implemented as possible.

He began packing, shaking noticeably as he stuffed in any objects he deemed important. "Where am I even going to go? I have to disappear... I- I don't know what I should do," he murmured weakly, clearly scared and plagued with anxiousness.

"You're going to have to leave the city. Drop everything and go. You can stay at my place while we figure out how to get you somewhere without being noticed. The plan is to make Zarkon think you're dead at the bottom of the river."

Shiro spoke with an odd sort of ease. He spoke as though he knew through and through everything he'd been talking about. He didn't know. In fact, Shiro's anxiously intrusive thoughts told him this was going to get both of them killed or worse. But he spoke. Calmly and confidently.

"I need to call Zarkon. My mission was to kill you and make it seem like you've skipped town. I'm going to tell him everything went fine. You keep packing."

Upon seeing Lance's nod, Shiro pulled out the burner phone Zarkon had given him for the job. He flipped it open, clicked on the only contact and the phone began ringing. He held it up to his head, and waited for the click of an answer.

The awaited click, and a gruff, "Is it done?" in Zarkon's chilling tone greeted him.

Watching Lance scramble for his things, Shiro nodded. "Yeah. I'm about to start cleaning up. I'm packing up a bag of his clothes to ditch too. Figured missing clothes would lead to the police suspecting what we want them to."

"Good," Zarkon's voice gurgled from the speaker. "Clean it up. Take his cash. Ditch the body. Did you take care of his mutt?"

Shiro casted a glance towards Blue. "Yes. It's taken care of." He paused a moment, juggling with his luck. "Keith needs to keep the cameras off for another hour or so."

"Done. Text me when the body is gone."

"Yes, sir."

Shiro hung the phone up and sighed. He turned back to Lance. "How's Blue with cats? Would she hurt a cat if she saw one?"

Lance watched, mouth hanging open as he looked between him and the phone. "She's harmless. She likes making friends," he said as he began to his bedroom to continue packing, no idea what to do.

Speaking of Blue, she was currently sniffing at and nudging Shiro's leg, whining loudly at him like she expected more food and like he had stuff to give to him.

Lance continued with stuff and ran his hands through his hair, panicking. Nonetheless, he had his bags packed in a few more minutes and stood in front of Shiro. "I- I'm ready," he said in a soft murmur, biting his tongue a little.

Goddamn it, he hate that he had to do this. What was he supposed to do? Keep Shiro company like a damn housewife while they figured out a way to keep him off the grid? Leave him with no way of talking to friends or family so he was assumed dead? It sounded miserable.

Shiro took a look at Lance's outfit, wondering if the deep blue of his uniform would stick to the shadows as well as his own. He'd have to take his badges off, of course. It would have been better if he had been wearing black. It would have been about five times as better if he had something to cover his face.

Sighing, Shiro reached back and untied his bandana. He held it out to Lance. "Here. Take this and put it on your face. You need it more than me," he said. "Do you have a dark hoodie you can wear? Once you've got it on hook Blue up to her leash. We should be gone before Keith checks back up on the cameras."

Lance handed Shiro Blue's leash and picked up a hoodie, slipping it on before pulling the mask on. He bit his tongue anxiously as he began to the door. "Let's go... I- I want to get out of here. Now. Please." He didn't feel safe and he definitely didn't want to waste any more time in his apartment, worrying about death.

Shiro looked at him wordlessly for a moment, his head cocked a bit. Lance had been so... trusting. He had been preparing himself for protests and ignorance. For pleads and for bargains. For denial and for immaturity. Shiro had been preparing for a lot more... a lot more fear. But no. Despite his stuttering, and that dazed look glazed over his eyes, Lance seemed otherwise collected. Level headed. Somewhat brave.

Shiro couldn't help but admire that.

He turned around, scooping up his duffel bag and pulling it over his shoulder. It remained closed. Shiro made sure of it. Lance wouldn't see its contents. He then leaned over and clipped Blue's leash onto her collar. It fit her name -- baby blue in color. Shiro hoped it wouldn't attract too much attention.

"Make sure she stays quiet," Shiro said, handing Lance the leash.

He dragged his eyes from Lance and looked about the apartment, scouring for anything that he could have missed. Anything that could have hinted to a crime, or even worse, the lack of a crime. No fingerprints. A packed bag. Missing Lance. A missing dog. Everything earned a swift check in the mental list he wrote about in his mind.

Finally, Shiro's gaze found the coffee table again. The drawings were still spread about its surface, apparent and still the slightest bit unnerving. With a slow, almost embarrassed sigh, Shiro lifted a hand and pointed at them. His cheeks flushed red.

"Do something with them. If you leave them here, its clues for the cops, and for Zarkon. I... I don't care what you do, but a bunch of drawings of me can't stay on your coffee table."

Lance turned bright red. He bit his lip and little and began gathering them up. "It just- I- I only drew these because- because-" what? Because I couldn't stop thinking about you? Fuck off. He'd sooner die than say anything near as stupid as that. "Shut up. That's why," he dignantly settled on as he stuffed the drawings into his bag, checking for any more around his apartment. He sighed, running his hands through his hair a little. He seemed satisfied and set his bag down. "Is that all? Oh- Oh fuck- I... I need to go to the precinct. I left something there. It was a- a few pieces of paper on you and our meetings- I... I left them in my desk in case I died but I... I don't know- We should go get those and not have them found. I swear, I'll just need to stop in for about five minutes, if that, and then we can go."

Shiro put a hand on his forehead and groaned. "You're killing me, Lance," he grumbled. "Jesus. Fine. I'll drive you to the precinct. Go in, grab your stuff, and get out. Don't talk to anyone. Better yet, don't let anyone see you."

He spun around, already feeling the regret surrounding the entire situation. Shiro made his way to the door, and pulled it open. He gestured for Lance to leave.

"We're leaving down the fire escape,"he added bluntly as he stood by the door. "The lobby is too risky."

Lance nodded along and left the building, disappearing through the fire escape. He waited for Shiro to confirm which car he was getting in and slipped into the passenger side. His nerves made his fingertips numb and his hands tremble, his stomach full of butterflies. He had no idea what he was doing.

He would have looked like an idiot to anyone who knew the situation he was in. Dumb Lance, naively trusting someone he clearly shouldn't trust. He turned his gaze to the window, biting his lip hard to soothe his nerves and focus on something other than his spiraling thoughts.

 

Could they just get this over with so that he could find out if he was going to die or not?

Upon arrival he showed his badge to the receptionist and started up the stairs immediately, dashing to the precinct to do as told as quickly as possible. He didn't want Shiro to think he was snitching. He approached his desk and opened the drawer, taking out the papers and stuffing them into his pocket before starting back out. Then he escaped to the car again, He slipped inside.

"I didn't tell anyone anything, I didn't even say hi to anyone," he said as he sank into his seat. "I swear, that was all. Nothing else." He sank into his seat and pulled his hood up.

It was finally sinking in how stupid he was being- blindly trusting Takashi to take him somewhere safe when he had been in a precinct full of cops who could have arrested him on the spot. He could have snitched with ease. He didn't know why he chose not to.

He was such a fucking idiot for not realising sooner.

Shiro nodded, but he stayed silent. His hands were gripping tight to the wheel, his nerves spiked and his whole system wound tight with paranoia. Thoughts of Zarkon seemed to be the only ones he could properly brew up.

What if he finds out? What if Zarkon finds out what you did? What would happen? Takashi, what is going to happen to you?

Easy. A repeat of what happened four years ago. Shiro felt as though he could have vomited at the thought. His knuckles turned white with their vise-like grip upon the steering wheel.

His driving became sloppier with each brick in the building of anxiety he had been stacking up in his mind. His stops jerked the whole car. His turns were wild and often without their legally required signals. His speeds easily exceeded the limit when he wasn't stuck in traffic. Shiro thought of turning on the radio to ease the tension of both his chest and the atmosphere, but he couldn't quite pull his hands from the wheel to press any of the buttons.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of worry and the quiet awkwardness of the car, Shiro pulled up to his building. He parked the car, ripped his steel grip from the steering wheel, and got out. Shiro opened the back seat door, and grabbed onto Blue's leash. He guided her over to her master, who had just closed his own door, and handed her over.

"I need to ditch the car. I'll take care of that tomorrow morning, though. I don't know how I feel about leaving you all alone in my apartment." He grumbled all of this in a blunt tone as he made his way towards the building, Lance stumbling along behind him. "Just follow me for now. Keep your head low. I don't think the lobby is too risky as long as your face is hidden."

Lance nodded and compiled, his head hanging low and his hood still up as he walked behind Shiro, letting him lead the way. He was tense, feeling stupid for trusting Shiro. He'd gone too far now, though, and it was a high risk to say otherwise or speak up against him. He ran his hands through his hair anxiously, shaking again, feeling like he was on the edge of tears yet again. God, could he just get somewhere quiet and secluded so that he could break down. He needed a pause, a few moments or a few hours to recover. He trudged behind him and soon got to the apartment door, tears already in his eyes and he was trying damn hard to hold them back. Not here. Not in front of Shiro. With all the recent stress, he just needed a break...

Shiro opened the door, and held it for Lance. Once Lance and Blue were inside, he casted a few nervous glances up and down the hall, and slipped in after them. He flipped on the lights, shut the door, and then locked it tight.

When he turned, Lance had been wandering further into his apartment, scouring the place. His dog, still tightly secured on her leash, sniffed the air, and wagged her tail.

A dog and a police officer. Standing in my apartment. Shiro put a hand up to his head and gave a short, manic little chuckle. A dog and a police officer. Jesus Christ, my two least favorite things. Standing in my living room.

Shiro felt damn near hysterical.

Shaking his head, Shiro tried to chase away any more delusional giggles he felt rising in his system. Instead, he clapped his hands together, hoping to grab Lance's attention. It worked, and the odd pair that stood before him spun around.

"Okay," Shiro said in a heavy, breathy tone. "Okay. You're in my apartment. That's a thing that's, uh, that's happening, I guess. Time to settle some ground rules, okay?"

He rose a hand and gestured the space around him. "Living room and kitchen are free range I guess. You'll probably have to stay here a week or so while I gather up everything I need to get you out of the state unnoticed, so me casa su casa or however you say it." Shiro had regained his usual, carefree, boisterous tone from their previous interactions, ditching the low voice and concerned vocals from before. He was Kuro again. "Guest room is the door on the left side of the hall. Bathroom is just a door down from that. Door on the right side of the hall is my room."

Shiro paused to point a finger at him. "You do not go in my room. Under no circumstances. None."

He dropped his hand, and the deadly tone, and continued. "I've got food handled. Dog food too. Just tell me what you want and I'll get it. Don't take advantage of that. I shower in the mornings and before bed. You schedule around that. Your dog does not chew up anything. She also does not mess with my cat. Your dog does not eat my cat's food, or play with her toys. That shit is expensive."

Another brief moment of silence while Shiro thought over his new checklist of rules.

"You stay in here. Stay away from windows. No going outside. If you need to out and get something, I'll handle it. If you need laundry done, I'll handle it. If your dog needs walking..." Shiro gave a deep sigh, and grit his teeth. "I'll handle it. Don't take advantage of me. No talking to anyone outside of me. It puts you, me, and them in danger. You might as well stuff your phone in the garbage disposal... but don't do that really it might clog the sink. If you need me to destroy your phone, I'll destroy it. "

Shiro thought of something to say again, liking the silent compliance from Lance's side. "I... Oh, wait, this next thing something that might be important." He turned and pointed towards the doorway. "You hear a knock on that door, you go to the guest room. Usually I'll give you a warning before someone comes over, but my friend Keith -- you remember him, right? He stops by unannounced every now and then for uh..." Shiro trailed off, trying to think of a good euphemism for sex. "Meetings. If he shows up just go to your room and I'll tell him to go."

Shiro ended his speech with a sigh. "You got all of that, Lance?"

Lance had been hanging onto every word, latching onto his voice and processing as much information as something to occupy his thoughts while he attempted not to cry. Having something, anything, as a distraction would help. He glanced up at Shiro and met his eyes, nodding immediately. He kept silent, tapping his leg a little and having Blue trot over, sitting beside him. "I'll go to the guest bedroom now, Takashi," he mumbled as he picked up his bag again.

Left side of the hall, was it?

He approached the described door and pushed it open, biting his tongue hard as he pulled it open. He whistled for Blue to enter and she jumped onto the bed, making herself comfy. Lance shut the door behind him as he set the bag down, pushing himself onto the bed. The guest bedroom was small- smaller than his crappy bedroom at home. There was no window and the ceiling was low, half of the room taken up by the single bed and a bedside table being stuffed into the corner. He curled up as he sat by the head of the bed.

He felt warmth burn his eyes and bit his lip harder, tasting blood. No. Not now. Not yet. Later, when Shiro wasn't home or when he was working. Anything. But his tears didn't listen, welling up in his eyes and beginning to spill from his eyes as he hugged himself. Blue whined as she noticed him crying, her ears flat against her head, but she made no effort to comfort him.

Lance hated this. He hated being here. He hated being obligated to act a certain way and he hated being bossed around and he hated fearing for his life in case Shiro just lost interest him or saw no reason to care anymore. He hated it. He hated himself for letting this happen. He should have reported everything and gone into witness protection. He should have told everyone everything and gotten Shiro arrested regardless of him losing his tongue for it. He didn't care.

He shouldn't have cared before. He'd not have ended up like this if he hadn't. He covered his mouth with one hand to stifle his sobs as the weight of the stress and the repressed emotions from the last few days came crashing down on him.

He couldn't let Shiro hear him.

He couldn't let Shiro know he'd won.

He couldn't believe this was happening.

He should have just died when Shiro broke in.

He just stayed curled up, sobbing, shaking, trying desperately to be quiet enough not to bother the intimidating man only a room across. He put one hand on his stomach. When had he last eaten something proper? His stomach hurt with hunger. His headache. Had he been drinking enough lately? His vision was blurry, even despite the tears. He hadn't been sleeping enough despite feeling like he slept too much.

He was a mess. A disgusting, pitiful mess that was only alive because some sick mafia fuckhead had probably decided it would be entertaining to watch him squirm in all kinds of hellish situations.

He was probably just alive to be mocked and abused.

He couldn't fight off the negative thoughts plaguing him. He slowly moved to the floor and Blue curled up beside where he had been. Lance slid off his clothes and pulled on a baby blue hoodie and black sweatpants before going back into bed. He might just sleep again.

He wrapped his arms around Blue, seeking comfort she couldn't give.

Maybe he'd be lucky enough to fall asleep before he could hate himself any more.

Shiro, on the other hand, did not end up falling asleep.

After watching Lance saunter off down the hall, the sting of his mumbled 'Takashi' still sharp in his gut, Shiro sat on the sofa, and flicked on the television.

He watched it without really watching it. The flashing of the scenes of whatever sci-fi space movie he had flicked on seemed distant. The screams of starships and space battles sounded distorted -- as though it had been happening from the other end of a long, winding tunnel, and all Shiro heard were the ghosts and echoes. His attention had simply been focused elsewhere.

Shiro's eyes were on the clock on the wall just to the left of him, by one of the only two windows of the whole apartment. He watched the hand travel round the face from number to number -- from hour to hour. He sat there for four hours and seventeen minutes, and proceeded to text Zarkon that he had ditched the body, and that he'd drop the car off at the junkyard the next day.

All he received was a tiny "Read at 4:35 AM" at the bottom of his screen.

A twist of anxiety plagued him, and Shiro held the burner phone in his prosthetic hand. With one swift grasp, he crushed it, the snapping of plastic and circuit boards somehow louder than his movies. Bits of it sprinkled about the carpet, but Shiro didn't care. He stood, slow and daze like, and made his way to his room, still clutching onto whatever remained of that poor little flip phone. The TV was still on, and raging about behind him.

Shior went into his room and closed the door. He sat on the foot of his bed beside Black, casting his gaze around his room. Pictures. Dog tags. Clothes. Bed. Cat. Cat toys. The bits of phone he'd been dropping everywhere.

Shiro sat there until daybreak, wondering what in the hell he was going to do.

Lance stayed in bed. He didn't speak, or move, he just stayed lying there for around an hour after he woke up. It must have been five in the morning at the earliest, meaning he didn't move unil around six. He slipped out of bed and slowly to the hallway. He used the bathroom before moving to the living room. Black was sitting on the sofa, curled up into a ball of darkness with glowing green eyes. Lance's eyes flickered to the mess on the floor and he went to the kitchen, getting a dustpan and brush out from the cupboard under the sink (a total guess) and kneeling on the floor in the living room to clear it up. It was unusable now. He took the sim card and left it on the table, brushing off the mess into the bin and putting the dustpan and brush back.

When he returned to the living room, Blue was stood by the sofa and sniffing Black, her tail wagging. Immediately Lance thought to break them up in case Blue got scratched but instead, as Blue began licking the top of his head, Black began purring. He decided against it, instead beginning to clean up the living room.

He wanted to show Shiro that he appreciated the whole 'not being killed' thing and this was his way of doing it, not that he knew any other way to show thanks to someone like Shiro without looking like an idiot. How was he supposed to thank him, anyway? It wasn't as simple as Shiro finished his paperwork for him or he pushed him out of the way of a bike. Shiro was risking his damn neck to help him like this.

Lance glanced at the sofa and cursed at Blue, who had jumped onto it and was getting quickly excited. She was about to start barking and yapping. Lance whistled and snapped for her to get down, making her sit and telling her to calm down. She yapped and got scolded, Lance holding her mouth closed. "Shut up," he whispered to her. "Blue, please be quiet. We can't disturb Takashi. Please," he said softly, petting the top of her head calmingly. Her tail slowly stopped wagging and she whined softly. That was Lance's cue to let go of her and she lay down, paws over her muzzle in shame. All Lance could do was hope he hadn't disturbed Takashi. Please, please for the love of god, tell him he hadn't disturbed Takashi.

Takashi hadn't been disturbed, really, because he wasn't asleep. Instead he was sat down in the center of his bed, writing out a checklist for the things he needed to get taken care of. He wrote with a nice, back inked gel pen on a hand held note pad he could easily fit in his pocket. He had started writing out this list just thirty minutes earlier, after he let Black out of his room to go to her litter box. So far, he only had four main points.

 

Ditch the car without being seen

See if Zarkon suspected anything or not.

Find somewhere to send Lance.

Get him there.

 

Four points. Only four in thirty minutes. Small in numbers, colossal in task. Easy on paper, terrifyingly trying in action. Shiro tapped the back of the pen on his pad, thinking hard. Each point was going to need its own page of description -- its own sub-categorized to-do list.

He flipped to the next page, and wrote down the first point on the first line. Ditching the car was easy enough, he figured. The easiest task out of the four, without a doubt. Shiro figured he'd think through that one first.

But then he heard a yapping-bark through the thin walls of his apartment, and looked up over his shoulder. He stared at the wall that separated his bedroom from his living room, and listened harder, furrowing his brow. Another yip, and a frantic shushing. Lance's hushed voice gave a worried plea to his dog, and then the noises fell silent.

So he was awake.


	4. Tasks To Be Completed

Worried for the sake of his cat, and the sake of his apartment, Shiro decided to stand up. He joints ached and his head still pounded. His eyes burned from lack of sleep. His body yearned for the bed. Shiro stretched, gave a quick yawn into his fist, and groped for his sweatshirt to throw over his chest. He had taken it off sometime in his daze from earlier, but he didn't remember. All he knew was that his upper torso was bare, and it wasn't before. Shiro then left his room, still pulling the hoodie over his stomach, and wandered out in the hall.

Lance was standing by the couch, his frightened gaze quickly flicked over to Shiro. He pretended to ignore it, and wandered over to the kitchen, reaching down for Black's bowl set. He turned and pulled Black's food cans -- expensive wet foot with a dash of veterinarian approved dry food -- from the upper cabinet. Upon hearing the familiar sounds of breakfast, Black, who had been on the couch next to Blue, jumped down and padded his way, chirping with excitement.

"Good morning," Shiro said in a sweet mumble to his cat as she rubbed on his legs. He looked up towards Lance, wiped the smile from his face, and darkened his features a bit. "Morning."

Lance was sitting on the floor with Blue lying by him, on her back, getting belly rubs. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth and she was lying awkwardly, waving her arms around for more attention. When she saw Shiro, he stole her attention by speaking, she immediately got up and barked happily at him, getting quickly shushed by Lance. Immediately in the kitchen, she jumped up on her back legs and waved her paws at him before they settled on his stomach. Her tail was wagging, her eyes on Shiro while she waited to be pet.

"Morning- Blue, down!" She whimpered. "No, none of that. Down! Seriously!" He said quickly, watching her drop and lie on the floor at his feet. "Sorry. Sorry about her, I'll get her to break that habit. I promise." He watched as Blue began sniffing Black again, infatuated by him.

He rubbed his arm sheepishly, glancing at the floor, feeling a lot less awkward than the night before and much, much less emotional but he wasn't any less intimidated by Shiro. "Did... did you get any sleep?"

Shiro had suffered through Blue's affection with a distasteful frown on his face. He sighed when she had dropped back to the floor, and placed Black's full food bowls on the countertop. Afraid Blue would want to eat them herself, Shiro leaned down and picked Black up. He set her down next to her food, and turned around to watch the curious Blue as the cat ate. The dog looked up at him, ears back against her cocked head, sniffing the air. He broke, and reached down to rub her head.

"Yeah, sure. I slept fine," Shiro lied as he scratched behind Blue's ear. He thought about asking Lance back, but then quickly decided against it. They weren't friends. Small talk wasn't why Lance had been standing in his living room. Shiro wasn't risking his life for a simple 'how did you sleep?' every morning.

Then what are you risking your life for, Takashi?

Shiro shook his head and spoke up again.

"Did you pack any food for Blue? Or do I need to buy some when I'm out?"

Lance nodded and disappeared into his room, Blue approaching Black again but only showing interest in her, not her food. When she did, Lance had already come back and all he needed to do was whistle and she moved back over to him. He got out the biscuits and tins of wet food that he'd brought.

"I can make Blue's food," he said as he pet the top of her head. A few moments of silence passed.

He stood, looking up at Shiro. "Look, I don't know how exactly to thank you for this. It's a really- really big thing that you did for me but I just can't quite comprehend it and I'm not sure what to do to thank you properly so... so please-" he was about to take Shiro's hand or put a hand on his shoulder or something when he remembered who he was talking to. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do. Anything at all. I don't doubt you're risking your life to do this for me so- so anything. I don't care- anything at all."

Shiro stayed quiet for a moment, watching Lance with a blank look in his eyes.

"I just need you to listen to what I tell you to do," Shiro said after his long pause. "Messing with the mafia... with Zarkon... it's delicate. I know what I'm doing. I just need you to trust me. That's it."

Shiro turned away from Lance, not wanting to see his reaction. "I'm going out to ditch the car today. I'll be gone for a while. Is there anything you need? Tell me now before I get in the shower."

Lance glanced at the floor a little again, feeling hurt that not even his attempt to help was working. "I- What time do you expect to be back? And I want to do something to make it up to you so I'll... Can I do the cooking? At the minimum, I just- I want to help..." he focused back on asking. "If it's okay for me to cook, what do you want me to make for dinner? So that I can get started before you get back if I need to." He shifted his weight between his feet for a few moments, the silence making him feel like he shouldn't have asked. "I mean- I- I don't want to overstep and try taking over so if you don't want me to then- then just say so-"

Shiro opened his mouth to tell Lance that he was ridiculous, but then he stopped. He stopped because what was he doing? Shooting down the option of exploitable labor? Lance's repeated pleas for work should have been a Goddamn gold mine. Shiro could take so, so many advantages of him. Lance could clean for him. Lance could empty Black's litter box. Lance could take care of every little annoying task Shiro wouldn't feel like doing. Shiro basically had a willing servant in his grasp.

But why did he feel so wrongly about it?

Lance wanted to work. Lance wanted to help. Shiro could tell that much from the look in his eyes and that desperate lift of his voice. So why was it Shiro felt bad... God, why did Shiro feel bad at all? Lance being there was a nuisance all together. The guy deserved to be put to work.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever, I'm tired of take-out," Shiro said after his quick moment of contemplation. He still felt confused, and his answer did nothing to chip away that disoriented feeling in his system. He shook his head. "Uh... I... I don't know. Like, uh, fucking steak or something. I think there's one in the freezer for some reason -- Keith gave it to me." His last bit was a grumbled sort of stutter as he made his way to the bathroom. He stopped at the door, and turned. "I'll be in the shower. When Black's done eating, take her bowl off the counter. There's, uh, also cereal in the cabinet."

Then, a bit flustered, Shiro escaped into the bathroom.

Lance watched him leave and went to the kitchen, taking out the steak and moving it to the fridge so it could defrost, humming softly to himself. He bit his tongue a little when he realised he was humming, silencing himself and focusing solely on what he was supposed to do. He approached Black and reached down to allow her to smell him and hoping she'd like him but a hiss and a scratch later, he got the hint. He sighed a little and began rummaging through what Shiro had for him to cook with so that he could start figuring out what he was going to make. He was trying not to think about Shiro.

Shower done, Shiro dressed himself in his casual civilian outfit in his room. There was the gentle scratching at his door, and a long, angry meow just as he pulled his grey sweater over his head. He stepped over, and opened the door just a crack, to which the irritated Black promptly jumped through. She hopped up on his bed, curled her tail over her legs, head turned upwards. Shiro snorted, and made his way over to her -- mistakenly leaving the door open.

"What?" He asked slowly in a drawled coo. "What's the matter baby? You don't like the company?"

Shiro scooped her up, and held her close on his chest. She, apparently having lost her attitude, leaned her head into his chin, and purred up a storm. He scratched behind her ears some, still talking in the ridiculous voice. Lance's eyes widened as he heard it and he covered his mouth to avoid laughing, listening in.

"Mm, yeah, I know, it sucks," he told her. "But it's okay, pretty girl. It's okay." Shiro kissed the top of her head. "I love you." He drew out the you a bit dramatically, before putting her down back on his bed. Shiro then began to hunt for his shoes, still oblivious to the open door.

Lance had soon decided on what he was making and had gotten out the ingredients, working on that to focus on literally anything other than Shiro baby talking his cat, his heart light. He knew he shouldn't laugh, he shouldn't risk letting Shiro know that he had heard him doing that- Lance would rather he kept his ears. He was beginning to catch on to the kind of abuse he would get for anything.

He smiled softly, closing his eyes. He already had a meal imaged in his head but, as promised, Shiro only had one steak. Lance planned on making himself a small portion of pasta and letting Shiro have the nicer food. Blue was sitting beside him, whining loudly- Lance remembered that he needed to make food for her, getting out a tin of dog food and some biscuits. He gave half a tin of dog food and a handful of biscuits, setting a bowl down on the floor beside Black's.

Shiro, still looking for his boots, wandered out in the hall. Maybe he actually did take them off by the door the night before -- he didn't quite know. It was all still sort of hazy. He went into the kitchen, scouring the doormat, when he caught sight of Lance's sly grin. Shiro turned to him, and narrowed his eyes.

"What?" He asked sharply. Lance's eyes flickered to Shiro and he smiled a little more before biting his lip and forcing his lips into a straight line. Well, as much as he could.

"Mm? No- No, it's nothing. It's nothing at all. Sorry," he said as he turned his gaze back to Blue and the cat who had slinked over and began eating Blue's food from his bowl. Lance reached down to nudge her away and only narrowly avoided another scratch. "I- Uhh... Can- Can you... stop her?" He asked Shiro with a frown, glancing at the cat and then back at Shiro. He already had three cuts on the back of his hand from the first attack.

Shiro, having found his boots inappropriately slumped by the couch, shrugged with an uninterested sort of grunt. "She'll stop when she wants to," he mumbled, plopping down on the sofa. He began to pull his shoes on. "She's spoiled. She gets what she wants. Nothing I can do about it."

Lance looked at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. He sighed a little and got another handful of biscuits, adding them to the bowl so that Blue would have more to eat. He ran his hands through his hair, moving away and starting to his room. "I'll be in here, out of your way," he said as he opened the door. "I'll leave the door open for Blue. She'll come in eventually and I'll shut the door. If you need me just knock," he mumbled as he moved inside, leaving the door open ever so slightly. Shortly, he settled down on his bed and opened a baby blue backpack he'd brought with him, taking out a sketchbook. He flicked to the newest clean page and a couple of his drawings of Shiro, beginning to sketch it again. He needed to distract himself now, and evidently distracting himself from Shiro by drawing Shiro was the best choice he had.

Shiro shrugged and watched him go, still lacing up his boots. He stood, stretched, and yawned once again. God, how he was tired. His whole system had been out of whack still from the night before, his head still a bit fogged, even after his shower. He tried to ignore it, however, and made his way the the counter. Shiro pulled his notepad from his back pocket, laid it out on the countertop, and leaned forward. He flipped to the right page, and plucked a random pen from a cup of them he had sitting beside an empty fruit bowl.

Now, how was he going to ditch that damn car.

Junkyard was his first guess. He could go, mask and all, and pay off one of the workers to let him dump it there. The only thing he had to worry about was the morals of the worker he'd wager with -- but Shiro was sure he could tip a scale or two with a threatening glow of his prosthetic. It was either that, or driving somewhere far away to an unguarded dock, and pushing the damn thing into the ocean. That was a more tiring way, but a safer one, and one without the vexation of human contact. No matter what he did, he was going to have to destroy the plates. Zarkon's orders.

Still split on what to do, he reached for his personal phone, and shot Keith a message, explaining his dilemma.

Keith replied with a fast: i'd say ocean but then how r u going to get back?

Shiro answered him with: uber?

Keith: then the uber driver would see ur face dude

Shiro: masks are a thing that exists

Keith: suspicious. u could just suck it up and walk i guess

Shiro thought about that for a moment. He really could. Deciding for the more laborious of the two options, Shiro shot Keith a simple 'okay' and deleted the conversation. He closed his phone, placed it on the counter, and wrote down his plan of action on his notepad.

He would drive the car out to Jersey to some abandoned dock or bay, and check for cameras. He'd disable the cameras, if need be, and proceed to push the car out into the ocean from a far dock. It's be cold -- the spray of the ocean water and the harsh wind of the beach -- so he needed to dress a little warmer. A mask for sure, especially if he had to deal with cameras. Afterwards he'd walk his sorry way to a bus, bus his sorry way to the train station, and then get back into the city around dinner time.

By then, Lance will have you a well earned meal, right?

Shiro blushed a little, and refrained from writing that bit down. He began gathering the stuff he needed for his long venture out. Before he left, he decided to tell Lance the plan. He knocked on the doorframe, and waited for an answer.

"Yeah?" Lance called softly, his eyes not leaving his notepad. He wasn't focused too much on who he was talking to, occupied solely on his drawing. He had made it as accurate as possible, including details from every drawing he had done and was now completing the sketch by sharpening the lines. He smiled slightly as he worked. It was a pleasant distraction. He wasn't sure what Shiro would think of it- he'd probably find it weird- but it had killed plenty of time so he wasn't fussed. It would probably take him a couple hours to finish and then he would get started on dinner. He didn't know what time Shiro was likely to get back, so he could only hope that the meal would be ready in time.

Lance's door had still been cracked open for Blue, so Shiro took the liberty of peeking inside. Lance had been sitting on the bed, hunched over his sketchbook, a look of furrowed concentration plastered about his face. Shiro watched him draw a moment, wondering what it had been he had been focusing so intently on. Shiro, for the swiftest of moments, thought it might have been him.

He shook his head quickly.

"I'm going out. I'll be gone for five hours at most. Longer depending on traffic and train shit," he explained lazily, pretending he hadn't been so curious about what had been in Lance's sketchpad. "I'm going to Jersey to dump the car. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. If your dog needs to use the bathroom... uh... I..." He trailed off, not really knowing what Lance could do. "Disguise yourself before you go out. Like really well. I have some big coats and more bandanas in the closet by the front door you can use those. And don't take a walk around the city, either. Let her piss or whatever and then go back inside. You got all that?"

Lance looked at the door, nodding. "Got it! Will do," he said happily. "Hey, can you... uhh, come in? Just for a moment. I want to check something," he said softly as he held up his drawing pad. "It'll take just a second, promise." his eyes turned to the sliver between the door and the wall, waiting to see how Shiro would react to his request. He thought that the scar was drawn wrong- he just needed to check.

Confused, and a bit hasty to get his long mission over with, Shiro walked reluctantly into the room. He stopped about a foot from the bed, and crossed his arms over his chest. He tried to peer over the edge of Lance's sketchbook, but Lance had it tilted too far forwards, and Shiro didn't want to seem too interested.

"Okay," he said, shrugging. "Here I am, I guess. What is it you need?"

Lance's eyes flickered from Shiro to the drawing and back a few times. "Ah- Fuck!" he said as he brought the pad back. "It's the eyebrow, sorry- I-" he turned red and turned his drawing pad to face Shiro. "The eyebrow doesn't arch enough so you look a bit... sad. I-" turning ever redder, he pulled his hand back. "Sorry, it's probably weird, I just- you're fun to draw and-" he bit his tongue and looked away. Fucking smooth going, Lance.

Shiro, in an unexpected turn of events, felt his face flush to the deepest blush he ever would think to be possible. Quickly, he looked down at his shoes, pretending he hadn't felt that rush of warmth in his chest. Pretending he hadn't felt his heart skip a quick beat at Lance's sincereness. Pretending he hadn't felt so flattered.

The drawing had been really, really nice. Shiro had to admit that. The little he saw of it before Lance brought his hand back down made his head spin a bit at the talent. But Lance had been right -- the drawing looked a bit sad. A swarm of unnecessary pondering overwhelmed him at the thought. Did Lance think Shiro looked sad? Was Shiro letting too much shine through his confident exterior? The thought of Lance pitying him was enough to spur about hives... yet... at the same time...

At the same time it felt nice. It felt like that same niceness a few days ago when Shiro had met Lance on the outskirts of Midtown. The idea of Lance's concern made his bitter insides thaw a bit.

Shiro hated how nice it felt.

Eyes still on the ground, Shiro shrugged his shoulders. "It's fine," he grumbled. "We all have our hobbies..." Shiro trailed off, wondering if he should have added his next thought. He supposed he should have. "You're good at that. Drawing."

He paused again. "I... I need to get going. I have a lot to do."

Lance looked up at him and turned even more red, even if it wasn't possible, at the subtle praise. He thanked him quietly as Shiro left, embarrassed, and set the notepad back down so that he could change the arch of the eyebrow and decided just to focus wholly on the art. Eventually Blue came in and jumped onto the bed, lying down beside him to keep Lance company while he sketched. He enjoyed this, drawing, and he soon dug some paints out of his sketchpad. He first blocked in the background- black with a purple fade around Shiro's silhouette. Then he began working on the basics of his facial shape and marking the highlights and shadows. He didn't finish, though, getting as far as the basic lighting for the skin not even blocking in the rest of him, when he checked the time. Shiro must have left hours ago.

He was quickly in the kitchen, taking the steak from the fridge and putting it on a tray, sliding it into the oven. He then took out several different types of vegetable, slicing everything up and getting the pans ready to cook them. He enjoyed cooking, turning the radio onto a pop station and swaying his hips as he hummed along to the loud music.

It was playing too loudly for him to hear if anyone came in. Soon the food was all cooking and Lance was just humming, dancing to himself, murmuring the lyrics. It may have been a bit... sad, seeing him dancing on his own in the kitchen. He liked it, though. He liked dancing and having his eyes closed helped him imagine he was back in his shitty apartment without any of this shit going on.

Shiro's day, as expected, was absolute garbage.

The plan, of course, went well -- but every bit and piece of it degraded and killed Shiro's already delicate mood with ease. There was the drive to Jersey; the road riddled with idiots and traffic from some accident on the turnpike. There was his walk on the beach scouring for cameras; the air viciously windy and sharp. There was ditching the car itself; which proved him to be an absolute idiot when the ocean water splashed up back at him in a wave of bitter salt and chill. There was walking in desperate search for a bus stop, dripping wet and shivering from cold the whole way. The bus was filled with people, each with their dirty looks and scrunched noses as the smell of fish and salt. The train had been even worse -- late, and crowded with judgement.

On top of all of that, it rained on him during his walk back to his complex.

Shiro's clothes had still been soaked when he made his miserable way up to his apartment door. His flesh crawled with shivers, and his hand trembled when he went to unlock all his locks. His stomach felt an odd sort of concave, and his mouth was dry. Shiro's nose was already runny, and he could feel a nasty cough already brewing about in his chest. On top of everything else, Shiro was going to be sick.

Fucking perfect.

He reached for the door knob, and only just turned it when he fully recognized the sound booming from inside his apartment. It was music. Shiro strained his ears some more, wildly confused, and incredibly tired. He heard a familiar voice singing along to it, the pitch and the vocals unbelievably on-key.

Sighing, Shiro turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside, wondering what sight he'd have to see before him.

Lance was in the kitchen. The radio Shiro hadn't used since four years ago had been plugged in and dusted, blasting music through its tiny speakers from its neat spot on the counter. Lance, Blue parading around beside his feet, danced along, singing without a single care in the world. His eyes were closed. His body moved with professional ease. His voice moved along with the autotuned words of whatever pop song he had playing. Lance sang well -- not any sort of American Idol worthy, but well enough it was nice to hear.

Shiro watched him in a sort of shock, forgetting about his sickening chill as he closed the door behind him. The apartment, along with the sounds of Lance's song and Lance's laughter, hung thick with the mouth watering smell of steak. That home cooked meal suddenly seemed a whole hell of a lot better to his painfully empty stomach than the soggy half of his sub Shiro had in his refrigerator. Blue could have that. Shiro had a real meal that night.

Done watching, Shiro took a few steps forward. He approached the radio, and, eyes still on the dancing Lance, turned it down a few clicks. He hoped it would draw Lance's attention. Frowning as the volume was lower, Shiro's diversion was successful.

Upon realising that Shiro had entered and could have been stood there for anywhere between five and ten minutes, Lance's eyes widened and red crept onto his face, spreading from the tips of his ears to his neck.

"I- I uh-" he looked Shiro over and frowned. He was soaked! "You're sopping wet! Get out of those clothes," he said as he approached and began tugging Shiro's jacket off of him. "You need a hot bath and dry clothes! You're going to catch your death like this! Come on, get all of this off," he took the jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, frowning as he started to the bathroom.

Shiro complied with a dazed sort of shock, letting Lance pull him towards the bathroom. He watched from the doorway as Lance ran the bath, unable to argue with every chiding reprimand that left Lance's lips. Shiro couldn't even find himself to be angry.

Lance put the plug in the bath and turned on the hot tap, letting the hot water process and begin filling the bath before turning on the cold tap, too. He even picked up some random bottle from the edge of the bath and added it to the tub, filling the water with bubbles. He began through to Shiro again. "Come on, change! You need to get out of those." he turned the heat on the oven down. "I'll have your steak ready for when you're warm and dry. Do you want a cup of coffee or something? You'll warm up again in no time."

Evidently he became a mother in situations like these. "Takashi- are you okay? You're shivering. Did everything go okay today?"

"I-I..." Shiro trailed off, overwhelmed.

The kindness was unsettling. The concern seemed to hit him like a truck. The vulnerability of it all almost hurt -- like a swift punch to his gut. He forgot what it was like to feel so cared for. All of the angry discords of feeling, along with the spurring cold in his system, almost pushed him to the edge of delirium. Only when he felt his eyes get a bit too hot for his liking, did he snap out of it.

"I... I'm fine, Lance," he murmured weakly. He turned away and reached up to wipe his face, trying to blame the sudden wetness of his eyes on his sniffles. "It went well or whatever. Just... rained a lot. Obviously."

Lance nodded. He looked up at him and smiled a little. "Get some fresh clothes and get into the bath. I'll be in the kitchen and I'll bring you your steak as soon as you're ready to eat, okay?" he said in a much softer voice, moving back from Shiro and letting him leave to go do as he was told. He wasn't sure why he was so concerned for Shiro's safety but he was glad that he wasn't suddenly an asshole because of their history.

He did care about him, after all. He was making no attempts to cover that up.

Shiro stood alone in the bathroom, Lance having closed the door behind him. He tried to run the conversation over again in his head, the confusion and the confliction heavy in his system. How could Lance be so... so concerned all of a sudden? Shouldn't he hate Shiro will all of the passion in his heart? Wasn't he still afraid that Shiro would remove his tongue in his sleep? What was with the sudden trust? The sympathy? The kindness? It all hurt Shiro's head, spiralling him back into his migraine.

Shiro casted his eyes over to the bath, and watched the alluring steam lift off from the surface of the bubbles. He drew his tremulous hand to his sopping shirt, and looked down at himself.

Might as well do what he says.

So Shiro peeled off his shirt and stripped off his pants. He settled himself down in the tub, and tried to relax the uncomfortable tenseness of his body. He couldn't quite remember the last time he had taken a bath -- maybe he hadn't even had one since he was a kid. That had to be why he suddenly felt so awkward and exposed. Shiro tried to sink down a little more, hoping to cover the array of scars scrawled about his chest in the bubbles. He suddenly wondered what Lance would think of him if he had happened to wander back inside of the bathroom.

Shiro laid in the bathtub, growing more comfortable as the minutes passed. The warmth of the water leached the deep chill from his taut muscles, and soothed the tensioned feeling of his joints. The tiredness began to catch up to him again, and Shiro felt his eyelids droop. He fought against the sleep, however, and shook his head every time he felt himself slip into drowsy slumber. After awhile of snapping himself out of sleeping, and after the shivers had left his system, Shiro figured Lance would be done cooking any time soon, and decided to get out.

He stepped out, wrapped himself in a towel, and pulled the stopper from the drain. He leaned against the bathroom counter and drip dried as he watched the water drain from the tub, listening to the trickling of the water as it washed and gurgled through the plumbing pipes. Shiro then left to his room, threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a larger, baggier hoodie, and went back out into the kitchen -- barefoot. His hair was still damp as he watched Lance, who was sitting at the table.

Shiro cleared his throat to grab Lance's attention.


	5. The News

Lance was sat at the kitchen table, currently working on his painting of Shiro. He had just put the brush into the water when Shiro caught his attention. So far, the painting was almost, almost done. The skin tone had been complete and Lance was blocking in the colours for his hair and eyes and jewellery. That was all he needed to do and he was done. Most of it, the more difficult bit, had been completed. When texturing skin, he'd need to take into account the warmth and the lighting and every single little detail, but with the hair he only really needed to think about the lighting.

He stood quickly, smiling at him. "How do you feel?" he asked as he opened the oven, slipping on the oven gloves as he got out the steak and vegetables, taking out a plate for Shiro and beginning to dish up. He'd make himself some pasta or something quick when Shiro was done eating and doing something to relax or whatever. "Better? It usually helps me to have a shower after walking in the cold rain." He set the plate down on the table opposite where he had been sitting, going to a cupboard and being on his tiptoes to open it. "What do you want to drink? You have a half-empty bottle of wine, if you want that?"

"Yeah, I feel better," Shiro mumbled sheepishly. He rubbed his shoulder, looking down at the floor. He had taken out his contacts, and instead wore his glasses. They, like normal, had slid down the bridge of his nose. Shiro pushed them back up again before he answered. "Wine is fine. You can have some too, I guess."

Shiro gave a weak smirk and looked up at him. "If you're old enough, that is."

Lance's eyes flickered to him as he got out the wine glasses, almost dropping them when he saw Shiro with glasses. Fuck. He turned redder than the damn wine and looked back at the task at hand, focusing on pouring both of them some wine. He soon came over and set some wine down by Shiro's plate and his own. "Thanks," he said as he picked up his paintbrushes, wiping the smallest one dry. He tried to be subtle when he looked at Shiro to check that it was accurate, biting his lip as he brushed over the water lines under Shiro's eye and dotted along where the eyelashes were going to be- when he got his pens out. He didn't like doing detail like that in paint. He only occasionally stopped to sip his wine, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth slightly as he focused.

Blue was sitting by the table- of course she was, there was food- and let her head rest on Shiro's leg, looking up at him. Lance didn't notice and wasn't paying enough attention to listen to her whining so he didn't tell her to stop or go lie down. He rarely got this focused- and it was because of Shiro, who wasn't actually as much of an asshole as expected.

Shiro gazed down at his plate with a nervous sort of reluctance. It smelt good. The spices and and seasonings made his already painfully empty stomach seize with yearning. But... accepting a homemade meal from a man he didn't know all that well? It set off some warning lights in his mafia trained mind. Shiro glanced up at Lance, who didn't seem to have anything to eat. It burned at his suspicion some more.

"You're not eating?" He asked quietly, rubbing his shoulder.

His eyes kept drifting back to his full platter, want misting in his mind. God, how he wished he wasn't like that. He just wanted to eat in peace.

"Hm?" Lance's eyes flickered up to him and he smiled a little. "No, no, there was only one steak so I made enough for one person. I-I was just planning on having some pasta or something," he answered honestly as he glanced at Shiro's plate and then back at his painting. "Why?" He could tell it wasn't because Shiro 'cared about him'.

Shiro's face, for what had to be the third time that day, flushed a bit. He looked down. "It's, uh, it's nothing," he muttered, shaking his head.

Jesus. Whatever. If it's poison I'll just die, and Lance will have to fend for his damn self.

Shiro, shrugging, picked up the fork and cut into the steak. He took his first bite, and had to keep himself from smiling. God, that was nice. He ate some more, a bit too fast for his liking, and kept a good eye on Lance. Every time he'd flick his eyes upwards at the man across from him, he'd meet Lance's own spying ones, and then watch them shoot back down to the drawing pad.

After awhile of silence, Shiro cleared his throat a little. "You sure you don't want anything? I'll give you half or whatever," he mumbled gruffly.

Lance looked up at him, smiling a little.

"No, no, you don't have to. I don't mind. You're the one who actually /does/ work, all I've done today is cook and draw." Blue put her paws on Shiro's lap and whined up at him, sniffing around and at his food. Lance smiled softly.

"Just tell her to sit or get down. If she's on your lap then it's only a matter of time before she takes your dinner and runs." Lance turned his attention back to the painting. It was almost completed, he was really excited.

Shiro looked down at Blue and gave another shrug. He wasn't all that good at disciplining animals -- which was incredibly ironic if he had to say so himself, with his talent at disciplining people in mind. Shiro shifted his leg, and pulled it out from under Blue's paw. He looked back to his plate, to the dog, and to the plate again.

"Can she not have steak?" He asked slowly. "I mean, I don't normally eat this much. She can have some if she wants it."

"She can," Lance said as he bit his tongue. "She just... It's best not to let her start eating your food or she won't stop," he said as he whistled for her, snapping his fingers. She moved off of Shiro's lap, still sniffing at the food. Lance set the brushes down again and smiled softly as he took a pen. He began adding details, outlining Shiro to give him a more striking difference against the background. He then worked on the eyelashes and added any other details necessary, smiling proudly. He was finally finished with the painting. Shyly, he turned it over and showed Shiro. "It needs a little while to dry properly, but- I-" he hid his face behind the sketchbook, turning red.

Shiro took a good look at Lance's painting in wordless awe. His heart fluttered in his chest for the shortest lived moment, and his face grew all the more pink. But... despite his sudden sheepishness, he didn't look away. He was too intrigued. Rather, he ran his eyes over the delicate tones and the masterly crafted lighting. The patiently perfected lining of Shiro's lashes and jaw. The careful coloring of the eyes, and the offputting emotion they captured. The pink flesh of his scar and the blush of his cheeks.

It was all like looking in some sort of mirror... one that made him nicer than he was in real life. Shiro brought an unconscious hand to his face, and touched his cheek, turning his head to the side. He almost half expected the more beautiful Shiro to do the same.

"Huh," he said quietly. Shiro managed to pull his eyes down on his plate. "It's nice... Not exact though. Looks a little nicer than I do."

Shiro shook his head and put his silverware on his plate. He started to stand up, scooping up his dish to take to the sink. He offered Black and Blue bits of steak -- to which they both accepted with clear excitement-- before he cleared everything off and dumped his plate in the sink. He thought about saying thanks for dinner... he thought about it back and forth for what had to be an awkwardly long time.

"Steak was good. I've been living off of fucking take out for the past few months -- I was getting bored. Thanks, I guess."

After everything Lance had done, even if it all made Shiro's insides whirl with violent confusion and discomfort, he figured the guy deserved it. Nodding a little, Lance smiled shyly.  
"It was nothing, really," he murmured as he took the page out of his sketchbook. "Do you... do you want this? I'm not sure what I'll do with it- I've not got anywhere I can put it." He rubbed the back of his neck, just wanting Shiro to have it. He'd worked hard on it and Shiro had seemed to like it, so... it just seemed to make sense to give it to him. "But dinner was fun to cook, I like cooking," he admitted as he rubbed his shoulder, a small and fond smile on his lips.

Shiro didn't exactly know what to say. He certainly didn't have a place to put it — maybe a spot on his dresser he could set it beside some old dog tags or something. He didn't quite know if he wanted a picture of himself in his room... his present self anyways. The only pictures he had were before he went overseas. When he was younger and brighter. When he was the star football player aiming for Valedictorian. When he wanted to go work for NASA. When his body was clean of scars and his hair was all black and he had two working arms.

When he didn't know what it was like to take someones life.

Shiro looked at the painting a moment. A long moment. He could have just said no.

But was that rude? God, why did he care? He shouldn't have given two shits about Lance and his feelings. But his stomach churned at the idea of shooting Lance down. Shiro, taking the easier of the two options, ducked his head and held out his hand.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

Lance grinned, his face lighting up as he held out the painting for Shiro. He was clearly proud of the painting and incredibly happy that Shiro accepted the painting he'd spent all day working on. He shifted awkwardly where he was stood, Blue walking over and wagging her tail happily, only standing by Lance for a few moments before going to Shiro and jumping up at him. She'd taken a liking to him quite quickly. Lance wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he could tell that Black didn't appreciate it.

Lance was quite right — Black did not appreciate Blue's liking and attention of her Shiro. Shiro noticed her attitude when she hopped up on the counter, glowering down at the dog that pranced about Shiro's feet. Feeling guilty, Shiro have Blue a soft pat on the head and left to the living room.

He gently placed the pairing atop the television stand, and searched for the remote he had lost the night before. Shiro noticed the absence of the mess he had made the night before with a blush. Shiro decided not to say anything about it, plucked the remote from its inappropriate spot on the floor, and settled down on the couch. He flicked on some news channel, and watched — looking for anything he recognized. He could feel the burn of Lance's eyes from the kitchen, and recognized it with a grimace. Lance shot his gaze down to Blue.

"News," he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. Seeing nothing, he clicked to the next channel. "I didn't have time to check it this morning."

Lance nodded, moving to slip into the sofa beside Shiro, keeping a little distance between the two of them. He stayed quiet, Blue jumping up on the sofa beside him. He didn't notice, just watching the screen before him as he stayed curled up, hugging his knees to his chest. He just watched the screen, absorbing the information while he could. That was when his own face appeared on the screen- an image of himself from the graduation of the police academy.

"And in alternate news, Lance McClain, twenty-three year old police officer, has been reported missing as of twelve pm today. He was last seen leaving the police precinct at half seven in the evening. He failed to appear at work and a close friend of his, Hunk Garrett, also a police officer from the same precinct, visited his home and claimed that there was no sign he'd been there. He also reports that bags and a great many of his items have been removed. There is no security footage of him exiting his building or of anyone entering. The police encourage anyone who knows of his current whereabouts to call in and report sightings."

Lance was silent, pale, his eyes welling up with tears. Blue nudged his leg and whimpered, licking Lance's hand as some kind of reassurance.

So, he had already made it onto the news then.

Shiro held the remote tightly in his hand, reading through the reports, hanging onto every word with a nervous apprehension. He felt the pressure in his chest suddenly release at that perfect phrase: "no security footage..." His thorough planning and extensive measures had paid off. They hadn't been seen.

He casted a look at Lance, glowing with boisterous pride and gloat, but felt his sly smirk falter at the look of Lance himself. The officer had paled, leaning forward on the couch -- eyes wide and unblinking as they scanned the screen before him. His brow was raised in a look of pained shock. His hands had clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes were welling with a fine wall of tears. Blue licked at his hand to see what had been the matter, but Lance paid her no attention. He was eerily transfixed upon the television.

Shiro had to admit he didn't quite understand Lance's horrified reaction. News stories bearing those blunt details and results were a blessing among men. It was the true reward for their success. The media's stupefaction. Their pondering ignorance. Didn't Lance get that?

He's not like you. He's not in the mafia. He's got a family and friends to worry about, dumbass.

Shiro blushed and turned away from Lance, back to the television. Quickly, he tapped to the next number -- giving some scores from the latest Sunday night football game. He kept his head straight forward, pretending like he cared about the New York Giants and their wins and their tackles and their field goals.

He didn't know if he should have said something. He didn't know if he should have told Lance those were all good things. That he shouldn't be so dumb and clingy to his past. To get over it.

Those words on his reluctant tongue, Shiro thought about how concerned Lance had been about him earlier. Something sharp panged his stomach.

Lance, when the screen changed, seemed to snap out of it enough to move. He leant back in the chair, tense, and stared at his hands as Blue nudged them and licked them.

"I... I used to play," Shiro blurted stupidly, these new words tumbling from his mouth as he stuffed the old ones away. Maybe that was the best thing to do. Change the conversation. Shift the topic. He gestured the tv. "Football. I used to play. In highschool or whatever. I was the best mother fucker on the team, man."

Lance's eyes then flickered to Shiro and he tried to grasp the words he was saying. He could notice the cursing and the... pride, he assumed, in his voice. The words were processing- football, high school, best- but they weren't quite stringing together. They were just words thrown into an incoherent sentence. Absently, though, he nodded as if he was paying attention to encourage him to continue. His eyes fixed on Shiro's, moving to his lips as they formed words he still couldn't properly process and his eyebrows whenever they moved. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly struggling to focus.

He should have expected this. Why had he stayed when Shiro was watching the news? Had he not expected to be missed? To be reported missing? Did it hurt more that Hunk had been the one to call in or that he was the only one who cared and he didn't figure anything out until his lunch break the following day? To them... he was just gone. He'd disappeared out of nowhere. They could think he was dead. They could think anything. He'd never see any of them again. He willed himself to focus on Shiro, entirely unaware that hot tears were rolling down his cheeks as his thoughts spiralled.

Maybe he should have been shot. That way Hunk would have at least known what had happened. Then his family wouldn't be lost, wondering where he'd went. Then they'd at least know exactly what had happened to him. The note in his drawer at work would have provided all necessary information for them to know it was a mafia killing and that he'd known Takashi, and that was why.

 

The worst part was that he could still die here. At any point, any given moment, Shiro could get sick of him. He could be shot, he could get stabbed, he could even be strangled. He didn't know. He wasn't sure if he cared. He just... he wanted people to know what had happened to him.

It hurt to think that his life was suddenly going to be an unsolved case atop of a pile of others, possibly one being worked by his closest friends.

Shiro felt himself physically grimace to himself at Lance's tears. He turned away quickly, looking towards his feet, biting the inside of his cheek. So maybe he had said the wrong thing after all.

Believe it or not, Shiro wasn't the best with tears. Not... not anymore anyways. After years of the harsh natured brutality he'd been through, Shiro had been taught that tears were sure signs of weakness. Reducing one's self to a blubbering mess of sniffles and sobs seemed almost disgraceful to Shiro's mind. After everything Iverson had taught him. After everything Zarkon had taught him...

He wasn't good with tears.

Shiro didn't want to see Lance with disgust in that moment, yet he couldn't help the impulsive shame for Lance's behavior flare up in his system before he tried to put it out. It made his matter all the more awkward. He looked down at his hands, and twiddled his thumbs a bit, still gnawing on the inside of his cheek raw.

"Lance," Shiro muttered awkwardly. Lance's hazy eyes focused immediately on Shiro again, as if he'd just realised he was there. "C'mon... you don't have to..." He trailed off hopelessly, not really knowing how he intended on finishing that.

 

Lance's brows furrowed and he paused for a moment, attempting to comprehend what Shiro had said. That was when his brain registered the warm tears rolling down his cheeks. He reached up and wiped them away, one eye at a time, looking at the wet splotches on his sleeve. He smiled weakly as he glanced back at Shiro. That'd be the reason why he looked so uncomfortable.

"No, no, keep talking. You... said about football?" He didn't want to upset Shiro. He hoped he'd not said anything since football. The last thing he needed was to enrage Shiro for not listening or seeming like he didn't care. "I think you were, anyway." He had no way of filtering what he was saying now, anyway. His mouth just worked ahead of his brain, emptying his thoughts without hesitation, even when he was aware it would be a poor choice to voice any of his thoughts right now. "I mean, you're not supposed to care about me," especially not this one, wherever it was going, "So i don't expect you to sympathise or... or anything... So..."

His words failed him. He pushed Blue's paws off of his lap and stood, tears already dripping down his face again. Even when he wiped them away, they were replaced almost immediately. Why was he even crying? He'd brought this upon himself by being stupid in that factory. He shouldn't cry. It was pathetic of him to cry over something like this.

"I'll head to my room, I think. I mean- you look uncomfortable. I don't think I'd feel any different if I could..." could comprehend any emotions right now, instead of just feeling numb, "Uhh... never mind. I'll go." One foot in front of the other, he began slowly wandering back to his room.

He'd just lie down, let himself cry and hopefully sleep. Hopefully.

 

He glanced down to make sure Blue was following and she was at his heel, as expected. The only consistent loyalty he had- that he was allowed to have- was his dog.

Shiro watched Lance go, desperately groping for words he couldn't find. Even after Lance's door had thumped to a close behind him, Shiro still felt a powerless 'wait' in his mouth, stuck to his tongue and to his teeth. After a few moments of him struggling for something to say to a man that wasn't there, Shiro sighed, hung his head, and gave a hushed swear to himself.

He picked up the remote and turned the television off. God, that ridiculous machine with it's stupid news channels and sports networks and God damn football!

Frustration built up in Shiro's chest as the thoughts piled higher.

Stupid football and stupid news channels and stupid missing persons report with Lance's stupid face and Lance's stupid reaction and Lance's stupid tears!

Shiro grit his teeth and clenched both his fists, the remote now in a dangerous position as his prosthetic squeezed it a bit too tightly. He didn't really notice it though -- all he felt was that anger grumbling up in his stomach.

It was all his fault, too. All Shiro's fault Lance had started crying out of fucking nowhere. If he had taken the time to watch the news that morning instead of writing that stupid list of his none of that shit would have happened. Lance's story wouldn't have been on in time.

God, why did this get him so worked up? Why did the idea of him making Lance cry get beneath his skin? Why? Why did he care so fucking much all of a sudden?

Upon that striking question in his mind, the remote snapped clean in half.

Shiro, shocked out of his daze, held the remains of his television remote up to his face, and cocked his head.

Somehow, the stupid little broken device made him all the more enraged.

"Perfect," he spat bitterly to himself. "Perfect. Fucking perfect!"

The last bit had been just a little over a shout as he threw the remote across the room. It hit the wall and bounced back onto the carpet with nothing but an irritating clatter. All it did was frighten the cat, and make Shiro feel incredibly stupid himself.

Huffing, Shiro turned around on his heel and made his way to his room -- trying not to care. The painting still had been left on the television set. Black padded after him, the hair on her back still a bit raised from the shouting and the noise from earlier. Shiro held the door for her, and then shut it with just the slightest bit too much of a slam. He spun around again, facing his bed, and then looked up towards the ceiling, rubbing his temples.

You're gonna get sick so you need medicine. You still need to snoop around Sendak to see if he knows. You still need to find Lance a place to go. You still need to find a way to get him there. And now you need to buy a new remote.

A new list. He ran it over in his head a few more times, trying to steady his breath. A new list. That's all. Just things he had to get done.

With that on his mind, Shiro settled himself on the bed, and rubbed Black's head in apology.

Just another list. 

 

Lance was in bed.

He was lying on his back, his arms folded over his chest, his face entirely neutral as he lay there. He felt... tense? No, tense wasn't a feeling, it was a sensation. He was aware of his tenseness, of the tears dripping down his face, of how desperate he was for one of Hunk's hugs and a hot chocolate, but he wasn't lucky enough to get that. He wasn't going to get anything he wanted.

He was feeling sad. He could tell that he was feeling sad, otherwise he'd likely not be crying. He could tell he was feeling anxious from how his thoughts had been tuned out to white noise. He could tell he was feeling angry because warmth bubbled up in his chest and he felt the need to punch the walls or curse himself for being pathetic.

But he felt lonely, too. Even with Blue lying beside him, he felt alone. He felt like nobody would ever be with him willingly, like nobody wanted him around. He'd ruined Shiro's day after he'd made it better because he couldn't repress his emotions like he usually did. How pathetic was that?

He stood shortly, though, figuring that his mind wasn't going to give in enough to let tiredness take over, and pushed open his door.

"Shiro?" His voice came before he had even thought of calling Shiro. "Shiro?" And again, louder this time. God, did he always sound this whiny? He was like a child after a nightmare, wailing for his mother. "Shiro?" His eyes flickered to the kitchen, making sure it was empty before he arrived outside Shiro's room. That was when the white noise tuned out a little. He raised his hand to knock on the door before his actions caught up with him. What the fuck was he doing?

Why was he showing up there? Why did he feel the need to come back to Shiro? Why did he wail and whine out his name as he plodded aimlessly to his room when he had no idea what he'd say or what he wanted?  
"Shiro?" He called again, quieter now, only a little above a whisper. He still had no clue what he was doing. Was he still crying? His fingertip ran along his lower eyelid, checking for any fresh tears. His vision wasn't blurred and his eyes weren't uncomfortably warm so... no. He mustn't be crying anymore.

He couldn't even really figure out what he was going to say. Did he plan on apologising? On thanking him again for saving his life? He didn't know. He could end up doing neither and just shouting at him or breaking down into tears again. He hoped not.

Maybe he should just go back to his room? He rubbed his eyes a little and grumbled to himself as he turned and began to return to his room. Maybe Shiro was hoping he'd go away and wouldn't answer the door to him? It wasn't likely but... he was hoping.

Shiro, in fact, didn't really notice Lance calling him around the third time he had called his name. Even then, Shiro didn't quite believe it had been real. He... he couldn't quite believe it, really. For what reason would Lance want to talk to him? After how horribly their last interaction had gone? After how awkward and embarrassing Shiro had acted? If the roles had been reversed, Shiro didn't think he'd want to see himself ever again.

Shiro stood slow-like, and walked over to his door. He put his hand on the knob, and leaned his head forward, straining his ears, listening for Lance. If he'd call again, Shiro would open the door, and, despite his dumbfounded outlook upon the whole situation, ask Lance what it is he wanted. If the apartment remained silent, Shiro would just go back to bed, with another hot coal of self judgement in his stomach.

A few moments passed, and nothing. Not even the creak of the floorboard. Shiro stood there like an idiot, his brow furrowed and his hearing sharp. Black watched him with narrowed eyes and quick, agitated flicks of her tail, waiting for more pets.

Shiro was about to give up when he heard the softest voice from outside his bedroom door.

"Shiro?"

It was barely anything. Just above the softest whisper. It almost sounded as though Lance didn't even want him to hear it.

Shiro panicked a bit, now gripping the doorknob in his hand. He couldn't quite decide which would be better off for the two of them. He couldn't quite decide which option would make him feel like an idiot when he would try to fall asleep that night.

Shiro waited for another sound, going against his morals from earlier.

Footsteps. His cue.

Slowly, Shiro pulled open the door, and peered out into the hallway.

"Lance?" Shiro asked, spotting him just outside the guest room door, reaching for the handle. He tried to make his voice gruffer -- gruffer like he didn't care as much as he did. "Did you call me?"

Lance had just turned and taken a couple of steps back to his room, cursing himself under his breath for thinking of interrupting Shiro and not stopping himself any sooner. Instead of continuing, he grit his teeth and turned back to face him. He wanted to hug him but he knew better than that. Shiro looked like he was the perfect size to hug.

Honestly, he just wanted to have someone that he could hug right now. Maybe that was why he missed Hunk so much already?

Silent for a few moments, Lance looked up at Shiro and fumbled for the right words. "Sorry," was the first thing that fell from his lips, an immediate apology for being so embarrassingly emotional and so pathetic with how he'd handled his emotions. "I'm sorry, I should have gone straight to my room but I thought that if I sat with you I could get to know you and... I'd not feel like I was intruding as much," he really needed to learn to shut up, "But it's my fault that I started crying and I made you uncomfortable when I did. So I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around himself for a little more comfort and his eyes shot down to the floor again. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his tongue hard. How pathetic he was.

"I just feel like I'm intruding when I'm here, and you always act like I shouldn't be here or like you regret not just killing me and I don't want to be inconvenient or awkward when you've done so much for me already and I'm trying really, really hard not to get too emotional or think too much about anyone at home but..." he bit his tongue when he felt tears in his eyes, forcing them back. Not again. Not again. "I don't think you understand.... Sorry, I'm just dumping this on you. I should head back to my room, I just wanted to apologise."

Shiro opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. Like before, he found his words trapped, almost physically painful as they got caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, sighed, and tried his best to get something through.

"It's... it's whatever, man," he mumbled. "You're fine. It's all my fucking fault things got tense anyways. I... I don't know how..."

To process human emotions?

To comfort someone in need?

To be a regular Goddamn person?

"...To deal with that stuff. You're fine, Lance. It's fine."

What a train wreck. An absolute mess. Shiro cringed inwardly, dreading Lance's reaction. A few moments passed before Lance comprehended Shiro's response and he looked up at the other. A grin slowly appeared on his lips and he suddenly stepped forward- his feet still out of Shiro's room- and wrapped both arms tightly around Shiro. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Shiro, on the other hand, felt his whole system jolt to a jerking stop. He froze, stock still at Lance's touch. Thoughts left him. Words certainly left him. The only thing that didn't really leave was that bass-like thump of shock still thrumming throughout his chest.

Lance held him like that for a moment or two before realising what he was doing and taking a couple of steps back and running back to his room, shutting the door behind him. He leant against his, his cheeks red as he realised what he'd done. Shiro had been nice to hug. He was right- Shiro was the perfect size for hugging.

Soon, when he was sure Shiro wasn't going to kick down his door and shoot him for his affection, Lance settled into bed. He hugged Blue close to himself and nestled into her fur, the thought of Shiro in his arms plaguing him. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't stop thinking about it! Shiro was just... he felt just right.

 

Shiro was frozen at his door, still speechless. Slowly, he lifted his arm and touched his chest -- almost as if in question.

Was that him? Him? Shiro? Was it really Shiro Lance had been hugging? Why?

Why?

His fingers curled, scrunching up the slack of his sweatshirt. He thumbed the fabric, feeling the coarse sweatshirt material against his skin, trying to sort everything out in his mind. Lance had just hugged him. Just... just out of the blue. Lance had wrapped his arms about Shiro's torso, pulled him close and held him tight for over two seconds. Lance had hugged him.

Was it what he said? Shiro didn't quite know. He could barely even remember what he had said in the first place... it felt as though that had been a while ago. And even then, it had been spluttered and butchered with awkwardness and thoughtlessness. No, it couldn't have been what he said.

Maybe that just had been how Lance apologized to people. He was a hugger by nature, probably. It didn't mean anything. Just a friendly, apologetic hug. A forgiving hug, perhaps? 

 

Shiro released his subconscious grip on his sweatshirt, and rubbed his shoulder.

Yeah. That's what it was. Just a little hug. Some sort of thankful, apologetic, forgiving sort of hug out of stress and sudden emotion. It was nothing.

Shiro casted his gaze around, glancing out into the living room. His eyes caught upon the painting he had left on the television stand. He watched it for a second -- that odd state of confusion misting about his senses again. With a sigh, and a quick look towards Lance's door, Shiro went into the living room, grabbed the painting, and then went back to his room.

All the while he kept his eyes from the broken remote.

Black was still on his bed, only now she had been curled up in a comfortable ball, her eyes closed and her tail flicking with building impatience. Shiro went over to her and rubbed on her head, apologizing for leaving. He went over to his dresser, and placed the painting so it leaned up against a dusty framed photo. Shiro looked at it a moment, squinting. He ran his thumb over the dusted glass.

It was a picture taken from his high school graduation. Past Shiro smiled brightly towards the camera, holding up his Valedictorian certificate with beaming pride. On his left was Matt Holt, an old friend. On his right was...

On his right was Adam.

Shiro glissed his eyes from Adam to his past smile. He had lost it awhile ago -- the brightness. The innocence. He then turned his attention on the painting. The soft frown and furrowed look Lance had painted him with considered with his graduation picture considerably so. Shiro gave a dismal huff of empty laughter.

On an impulse, he reached up to the painting, and moved it over to the side, covering up the photograph. No more smile. No more Matt. No more Adam.

Just the present.

Shiro went back to his bed, laid back on the pillow, and stared at the ceiling for the next five hours, sleepless for the second night in a row.


	6. Keith's Visit

Lance woke up early the following morning. He slipped out of bed after a moment and shedded his dirty clothes, pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt, slipping a jacket on over the top. He opened the door and Blue ran out, running laps around the apartment to get rid of her early-morning energy. Lance smiled softly.

Entering the kitchen, he turned the radio on and began rummaging through Shiro's cupboards and his fridge, taking out all the necessary ingredients to make pancakes. He washed his hands and brushed them off on his pants, beginning to measure out the ingredients and throw them into a bowl, mixing with a wooden spoon. He got out a pan shortly and turned on the stove, letting butter melt on the pan. As soon as he poured a handful of the mixture out on the pan, hearing the satisfying sizzle, the smell of pancakes began to fill the apartment. He got out two plates and pasta bowls to use to cover them to keep the pancakes warm, humming along to a pop song he'd heard a hundred times before.

It took him only around fifteen minutes to have the mixture used up, two plates of hot pancakes settled down on the table and still covered. Lance, using a chair to make himself tall enough to reach the cupboards, began rummaging around for toppings. He dug out syrup and honey, finding chocolate spread that hadn't been touched in who knows how long. And, finally, he found a variety of fruits in the fridge. Setting the assortment down on the table, Lance turned to begin to Shiro's room, planning on calling him through for breakfast.

Shiro knew Lance had been cooking breakfast. He heard the music hum through his apartment from the walls since it had been turned on. He smelt the achingly nostalgic scent of pancakes even through his door. He recognized Lance's voice hum along with whatever song he had on, the simple murmur sweet and smooth like honey.

He felt worse that morning. Along with the burning of his tired eyes, and the relentlessness of his migraine, Shiro felt sniffles and coughs cloud over his near future like an upcoming storm. Shiro groaned as he pushed up from his bed, rubbing at his head and his face with sleepy hands. He yawned, he stretched, he did all the things he did when he'd wake up. Shiro stood from his bed, wobbled a bit on his feet, and made his way towards the door. He had fallen asleep in his outfit from the night before -- the sweats and the hoodie -- so he didn't need to worry about that.

Shiro shot a quick look at Lance's painting before he left, taking it in for a whole moment or so until he opened the door. Shiro held it for Black, and then left the room along with her. He tried to forget about it.

He then met Lance, who had been making his way to the hall. Their eyes locked -- Lance's bright and rested, Shiro's dark and unhealthy -- and Shiro felt himself slump. He offered an awkward flick of his hand in a sort of wave.

"Morning," he grumbled, tearing his gaze from Lance's to the floor. Shiro watched Black rub against his ankles as she chirped and meowed at him for food. "You made breakfast?"

Nodding, Lance moved the plates away to show the steaming pancakes, opening his mouth to shout when familiar barking filled his ears and Blue had spotted Shiro.

She ran over, jumping toward him and then back, waving her paws at the floor and at him, yapping despite how Lance shushed her. It was as if she'd forgotten that Shiro was here, happy to see him again. She jumped up at him shortly, her paws on his leg as she watched him, her tail wagging, waiting to be pet.

Shiro, uncomfortable but willing, gave her what she wanted. He rubbed at her ears and under her chin, trying quietly to hush her up. Every bark was like a splitting firecracker to his pounding temples.

Lance rolled his eyes a little and snapped his fingers at her. Her ears twitched, meaning she'd heard him, but she was clearly choosing to ignore him and focus on Shiro and his petting hands. Her eyes closed as she was pet and scratched and she soon did fall silent, just enjoying the pets. She attempted to lick his hand on occasion but without losing the affection. It was unsuccessful. Black was seething with loathing at her feet.

After a few more fruitless attempts to snatch away Blue's attention, Lance settled down at the table and decided just to wait for Shiro to tell her to get down or to escape and join him.

Shiro did escape, giving her a final pat on her head and a slurred shush before he moved over to the counter. He reached for Black's bowl set, readied her breakfast, and set it back down on the floor. He paid no worry towards Blue -- she'd likely just sit at his side for breakfast again, anyways. He moved back to the table, plopped down in his chair, and cradled his head in his hands.

The pancakes, much like the steak, smelt real good. His mouth watered. He ran his eyes about the contents of the table before he leaned up and gingerly lifted his fork. "Where'd you get all that?" He asked gruffly, pointing his utensil at all the honey and syrup and chocolate spread. "I don't think I've seen anything like that in... I dunno... months? Keith just brings it all over when he gets high and goes on shopping sprees."

Lance smiled a little. "It was all in your cupboards, I'm used to having to search for things. You don't grow up with eight siblings and six cousins without learning how to hide your favourite foods in the most difficult places." He grinned with a confusing sort of pride, slathering chocolate sauce onto his pancakes and adding some strawberries, slicing them up.

He rolled up the first pancake, having made them thin for that reason. He began eating, acting like he wasn't watching Blue slowly sneak closer to Shiro. She placed one paw gingerly onto his lap and looked up at him, sniffing around where his plate was. Her intentions weren't subtle, but Shiro would have to learn to discipline the damn dog if he didn't want her stealing his food all of the time.

Shiro ate slowly. As he ate, he made a point to ignore the sudden closeness of Blue. He felt a soft paw on his leg in a matter of moments, but he pretended he didn't notice. He just ate.

Halfway through his pancake he started to get full. Shiro hadn't been lying when he said he never really ate all that much -- a half a sub here and there, a pack of toaster strudels every day or so, but never full meals such as a steak dinner or a pancake breakfast. He watched Lance with a twinkle of jealousy at how much the damn guy was able to eat. The pancakes were good. He just didn't have enough room.

Still watching Lance, his attention a little bit spaced, Shiro's fork lowered a bit. He had intended on taking one last bite before cleaning up his plate. That last bite drifted a bit dangerously towards Blue and her spot on his left.

In a matter of moments, he heard the chomp of canines on silverware, and the fork was suddenly missing from his grasp. Shiro jumped a little, snapping from his dazed stare towards Lance. Blue had been scampering off towards the living room, and Lance had already shot up from his seat.

"Blue!" His scolding voice came, about to pursue her when soft thumps came back and a clean fork, no sign of pancake, was dropped onto the kitchen floor.

Sighing as he picked up the fork and put it into the sink, Lance began snapping at Blue, telling her to go lie down and insisting she was a bad dog for doing that. He then turned to Shiro. "Sorry," he muttered as he ran one hand through his hair. "You must have proved to be an easy target yesterday when you gave her some steak yesterday."

"It's fine," Shiro mumbled.

His voice already carried the nasally and pathetic tone of illness. He figured it would all just get worse over time. He casted a tired look at Lance by the sink.

"Could you... could you maybe look around to see if I have any cold medicine around? If there is any I don't have any idea where it might be. But like you said you're good at looking for stuff..." Shiro trailed off, a hand on his achining head. "While you're at it, grab me the Ibuprofen. It's on top of the fridge."

Shiro patted his body for his phone, finding still in his sweatshirt pocket from the night before. He clicked it on. 15%. Good enough.

He began to scroll through his notifications, looking for anything that caught his eye.

Lance began searching through cupboard after cupboard and soon pulled out the requested cold medicine, ibuprofen and countless other medicine bottles he'd found. He read the instructions on the back and brought the cold medicine over, pouring out a spoonful. He didn't even realise he was holding it in front of Shiro's mouth (having said 'say aaaaah'), evidently just going absent-minded when it came to taking care of people.

"You should stay off work while you're sick. It'll only get worse under much more stress and you shouldn't be spreading it."

Shiro had tolerated quite a bit of Lance's overprotective "motherness", but holding a spoonful of cold medicine in front of him just passed his limit. With an irritated, questioning stare, Shiro took the medicine from Lance and sipped down the sliver himself. His eyes pinched closed, his nose scrunched up, and he felt his throat clamp a bit -- but otherwise, he held firm, grasping onto whatever he had left of his dignity. Shiro had been so determined to show Lance he'd been capable, he hadn't even bothered to remember making sure the medicine wouldn't make him all the more drowsy.

"I don't get to choose when I get to work. Haven't gotten any messages from Sendak yet, though, so they might not need me today," Shiro grumbled, gesturing for the bottle of Ibuprofen. When Lance handed it to him, Shiro twisted off the cap and popped two in his mouth, dry swallowing them. He stood up, and put his hands together. "Which is good. We need to start figuring out just what the hell I'm gonna do with you. Got any states you always wanted to live? Countries? Some place nobody would suspect you'd head to?"

Lance shrugged a little.

"Anywhere," he said as he brushed his hands off on his pants, starting to make Shiro some peppermint tea. "Nobody ever expected me to leave. My disappearance would be weird enough," he mumbled as he approached Shiro, setting down the steaming mug of tea. "This'll make you feel better." He'd even stirred in the second spoonful of medicine to make it easier to take. He then moved to sit down opposite him, biting his tongue a little as he twiddled his thumbs. He didn't know what he was supposed to do- he had no way of distracting himself. Shiro was currently his only source to fight off boredom.

Shiro took a begrudging sip of his tea, hating how nice it tasted and how warm it made his chest. He set the cup down, and rubbed his eyes a little.

"Well, come on. There has to be someplace you want to live. Are you a city guy? Country guy?" Shiro looked up at him, frowning. "You've gotta give me something man. I need to get the money ready for you and everything."

Lance's shoulders raised and slumped in a vague 'I don't know'.

"I'm not sure," he mumbled, biting his tongue a little.

"I guess... country? I mean- I always play animal crossing and think about living in a small town somewhere nice and quiet. And then usually I start thinking about owning a small bookstore but-" he cut himself off, grinning shyly as he stared down at his lap. "Sorry, I get carried away thinking about that kind of thing. It's what I'd have liked to do and I was planning on it being a retirement thing- a life of excitement and then settling down somewhere quiet and rural to be surrounded with books- but I don't get that choice anymore and I don't want to burden you with the money that'd cost. Honestly, just get me a cheap shithole apartment, as long as it allows pets. I'll be fine wherever I am if I have Blue for company."

He brushed his hands off on his pants and bit his tongue as he sank back in his seat. "Just... you've already done plenty so I'm not fussed about wherever I end up. Better than the morgue," he let out a soft and evidently forced laugh but fell silent immediately after, now feeling incredibly awkward.

Shiro, shrugging a little, went over to the counter, and snatched up on of his notepads. He pushed it over to Lance, and then handed him a pen. "Whatever you want, chose wisely. We could be talking about the rest of your life here," he said with a sigh. "I've got the cash and if I don't have it I can get it. Just... write down a list or something. I'll see what I can get done."

After that, Shiro turned and made his way towards the living room. He switched on the TV manually, his head turned rather abashedly from the broken remote by the wall. He clicked the channel button until a news flashed on. Shiro looked over his shoulder at Lance.

"If you're uncomfortable with the news or whatever, just tell me. I'll shut it off and look at my phone," he said awkwardly, settling down on the couch.

Lance was silent for a few long moments. Was Shiro genuinely offering for him to have what he said that he wanted? He began noting down the ideas for the bookstore he'd have, the paints and the aesthetic and everything that came to mind, soon having a small sketch in the corner of the page, absently pouring his heart out onto the page regardless of whether or not Takashi would care or go to such detail for his sake.

Honestly, it was just nice that he could talk abt this or write about it and share his wants with someone else.

Shiro leaned forward, ignoring the excited scribbling of pen against notepad from the kitchen. Instead, he focused on the talk of the television. Nothing exciting, really. A small strip of red sped across the screen beneath the main head titles with Lance's missing persons report, but other than that, it had been relatively quiet. Shiro made a point to make sure Lance hadn't seen it though, casting his eyes over the slim little story would skim across the television. Lance never looked over — his eyes were in Shiro's notepad.

With his notifications and the news checked, Shiro figured he didn't really have anything else to do. He stood up, switched the television to DVD, and thumbed through his movie collection stored inside the TV stand. He pulled one of his favorite Sci-Fi flicks, and turned it on. Lance was still working when he sat himself back upon the couch.

Lance soon came through, though, setting the notebook down by Shiro. He looked at him for a moment before going to his room and bringing through his duvet, Blue plodding down alongside him. He set it down on Shiro and wrapped him up in it before settling down on the far corner of the couch, turning his gaze to the screen.

"What's this?"

Shiro quietly grumbled that if he had been cold he would have gotten a blanket himself, but pulled it close anyway, somewhat thankful. He ducked his head down a little.

"Just some dumb space movie from the 80s," he mumbled. "Robots n' stuff. Only thing I could find."

Shiro, embarrassed, peppered in the white lie at the end, his face deepening in color.

Lance nodded, sinking down in the corner with his eyes fixed on the screen. "It looks good," he said softly. "It seems like a good film."

Shiro shrugged. "Yeah I guess," he said quietly. He opened his mouth to tell Lance he'd seen it about a dozen times before, but paused a moment, hesitant. Figuring it'd be dumb, he held his words and looked focused his lazy attention on the television, silent.

The time passed. The movie went on. Shiro enjoyed it with a hidden smirk.

He made sure to turn his head to the side so Lance couldn't see him mouth the words every now and again. God, imagine that. Shiro was already having a hard time keeping his dignity upheld with his frequent sniffles and his blanket. Lance seeing Shiro and his closeted nerdery like that would make a real big mark in the already dented intimidation factor Shiro still desperately grasped for.

About two-thirds in, around the time the main hero and his fleet prepared for the final battle against the evil of the universe — cool, huh? — a sharp knocking game from his door.

Shiro recognized the knock almost instantly, the precise, sharp tapping of Keith's knuckles too familiar to miss. He perked up, and shot Lance a hard glare. "Keith," he said in a hushed voice. "Room. Now. Keep your dog quiet."

Lance tensed up, biting his tongue hard and immediately going to his room. Blue followed and Lance held her mouth shut as he closed the door, staying dead silent.

Shiro stood, shut off the TV, and made his hasty way to the door. Passing the kitchen, he glanced at the small mirror he'd kept hanging by the sink. He swept his hair to the side, rubbed at his eyes, and turned his head. Not perfect. Still in glasses. Bags ever present. Shiro bit his lip.

Keith was stood in the hallway, smelling strongly of weed, waiting for Shiro to open up and knocking the door again, louder, to show his impatience.

Another rushed knock. Shiro, uttering a long sigh, rolled his eyes and spun around. He went to the door, and unlocked everything. Shiro opened the door.

"Keith," he said breathlessly upon seeing his... friend? Shiro shook his head. "A little early in the day for sex, don't you think?" Keith shrugged.

"A little early in the day to be high, too, but why does it matter?" He began stepping forward to push past him and get into the apartment, disliking the sudden need for Shiro to talk to him and converse before doing anything as opposed to after they'd had loud, dirty sex and when they were both high. He looked dishevelled, his hair a little messier than usual and wearing a scarlet hoodie and black jeans. The collar was tugged down, though, due to his hands being in his pocket. He wasn't wearing a shirt underneath.

Shiro gave a deep sigh, closing the door behind Keith. He turned, watching Keith meander about his apartment. Shiro lifted a hand to rub his head.

"Keith, man, I feel like shit right now," he said in a grumble. "It rained on my walk home last night. I'm sick. Not in the mood." 

 

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Asked Keith as he paced around, settling down and getting nice and comfy on his couch. "Not in the fucking mood," he mimicked to himself, shaking his head as if he was mentally scolding Shiro. "Don't think you've ever said that before."

Shiro rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I mean, snotty mucus doesn't actually turn me on. If it's your thing, by all means," he mumbled, giving a basic gesture to his body. "I'm just tired, man... I doubt it'll be much fun for either of us." Keith groaned irritably.

"So will we just get high or should I fuck off?" He asked him, having gotten quite comfy on his sofa with one leg stuck straight out and the other hanging off of the edge of the sofa. "Just say it outright if you want me to fuck off, Shiro, I don't care."

Oddly, Shiro couldn't find an answer right away. He stayed silent, look down at the ground in thought. Getting high sounded great. Getting high with Keith sounded great. He felt as though he needed something like that. Something to dissolve the thick, awkward atmosphere about the apartment after the night before with Lance. Something to ease the anxious tension building in his chest. Something to stall the heavy traffic of though bustling about in his head. Shiro swallowed hard, parted his lips, and then closed them. It took him a few tries to get his words out.

"We could get high, I guess. Just weed though. And just real fast," he muttered with a shrug. Shiro gave a nervous glance towards the hall. His eyes flicked to Black, who rested on the countertop, her tail flicking, her eyes judgeful. "Let me put the cat in the guest room— I don't like her around smoke. I'll grab my stash, too."

With an approving nod from Keith, Shiro turned, scooped up Black, and made his way to the guest room. He opened the door, slipped inside, and held a quick finger to his lips at Lance's sudden confusion. Shiro started before Lance could ask.

"Keith is staying for a bit," Shiro said in a whisper, setting Black down. She scurried under the bed.

Lance cocked his brow, and Shiro quickly thought of a lie to justify himself. "He'd probably get suspicious if I told him to go."

A perfect excuse.

Smiling a little to himself, Shiro made his way over to Lance's dresser, and got on his knees. He groped beneath the furniture for his bag of weed, and stuffed it in his pocket before Lance could see. He stood, wiped his hands on his pants, and gave Lance a nod.

"I'd say thirty minutes to an hour. If you need something, knock on the wall," Shiro explained. "Keith is higher than a kite. He won't suspect anything of it."

Lance nodded after a few moments. He didn't trust that but... what choice did he have? He nodded, petting the top of Blue's head and keeping one arm around her to stop her from lunging at Shiro and jumping, demanding pets.

"Don't do anything stupid, Shiro," he whispered to him. "You're sick, so be careful."

"Shiro!" Came Keith's voice from the living room. "The fuck is taking you so long?" He already had a blunt rolled for the other and had his lighter in the other hand, "This shit isn't going to smoke itself!"

Lance gasped and fixed Shiro with a disapproving glare. "You are not getting high, Shiro! Not while you're sick!"

Shiro gave a little sigh, and a soft groan. "Who are you, my mom?" He snapped hushedly. "Listen, I need a break right now. It's only weed. Chill out."

Lance grit his teeth but fell silent again, glaring at the floor. The only reason that that had worked was because Lance knew Shiro was stronger than him and that any arguments could end up with him being caught and killed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and Blue nuzzled him, knowing that he was stressed.

"Just go get high and get it over with."

Shiro shrugged away at Lance's coolness. He gave Lance a half hearted wave, and a roll of his eyes. Shiro left the room and met Keith in the living room. It was already hazy with smoke.

"You fucker," Shiro said slickly, a sly grin curling up his cheeks. "You started without me."

He made his way over to the couch and plopped down next to Keith. Shiro plucked the blunt from Keith's hand, and took a slow, tentative drag. As nice as it felt, it tickled at his chest, and bugged at his throat. Shiro gave a pitiful cough into his arm, losing the smoke into his shirt. He gave a cringe at Keith's snicker.

"See? Sick," he coughed. Keith's eyes rolled all by themselves.

"Fuck off, Shiro. You know you're not good at smoking as well as I do," he said arrogantly as he took a long drag, sighing happily. God, it felt good to be getting high, to be forgetting all of his fucking troubles. He loved it. "I am so fucking sick of work," he began as he slumped further down in the sofa, his outstretched leg lifting onto Shiro's lap. "I'm so sick of Sendak's smug fucking voice. It'd do him some good to lose his other eye, maybe it'd goddamn humble him. I bet I could steal his prosthetic at some point. Sell it somewhere." He was just absently letting his thoughts spill from his lips- he did it every time he got high, just rambling about how much he hated work or how much he loved getting high.

Shiro laughed, and began rolling his own blunt, the bag of weed pulled from his pocket, and open on the coffee table. "Fucking same, dude," he muttered, using Keith's lighter. Shiro took another slow drag, and held the cough down in the base of his chest. All he managed to give was a soft sort of hiccup. "Sendak and Zarkon are basically breathing down my my neck. Today's the first day I haven't gotten a text since the busted sale. But it's too early to say anything though."

That was some good weed. Already his head was swimming. A soft smile had replaced his smirk from earlier. His eyelids were growing increasingly heavy. His chest felt light for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Shiro took another drag, held it a moment, and slowly blew the smoke into Keith's face with a chuckle. He then leaned back, and laid his head on the backrest of the sofa.

"Gotta be worth it, I guess," he murmured, smoke still twisting about his lips and about his nostrils. "This weed is fucking godsend. And I got it for free."

Keith rolled his eyes.

"In exchange for sex. I'll put it on the tab," he said as he turned his bloodshot grey eyes to Shiro. "Come back at the end of the week," he continued, "come get what you owe. Damn, you'll owe me extra. I'm expecting the sex of a lifetime, Shiro. Seein' stars type of shit. Got it?" He was smiling, clearly joking, moving his hand to tap his ash onto the wooden floorboards before bringing it to his mouth once more. God, fucking perfect. He loved being in Shiro's company, he loved being high when he could be with Shiro, totally relaxed.

He soon moved to lie with his head on Shiro's lap, taking great amusement in puffing smoke up and watching it hit Shiro's face.

"You're not making any fuckin' sense," Shiro mumbled through a crooked smile, his voice dazed. "I always leave you seeing stars."

Keith grinned as he looked up at Shiro, taking a long drag of his joint before puffing smoke into the other's chin again.

"Sure, tell yourself whatever you want," he said with a grin as his eyes fell closed.

Shiro's head was swimming and light. Giggles built up at the base of his chest, leaving him in random slips of laughter. The weed really hit him then, dizzying up his mind and relaxing the previous tension of his system to a lazed slouch. Twice he found himself almost confessing about the officer he had cooped up in his guest room. Three times did he almost admit to wanting sex. Four times did he teeter on the decision of asking Keith if he wanted to take a dog home with him.

It was dangerous being so high with such a heavy secret. His drugged head was warming up to the idea of just dumping all of that weight off of his shoulders. Keith would understand, wouldn't he? Keith would... Keith wouldn't rat him out.

Shiro couldn't have sex if he was dead, now could he?

He shook his head to himself, and held his tongue. No. The small amount of self control he still had in his high grasp took over the reigns. No. Not then. Not while they were high.

Keith smothered out his blunt, having been here for longer than planned but loving it. He just enjoyed spending all of his damn time with Shiro. "I oughta go soon," he muttered, checking the time. He was supposed to leave around fifteen minutes ago- he'd stayed for an hour. "Sure you're not up for nothin'?" He opened his eyes a little, his half-lidded gaze fixing onto Shiro. "Not even a blowjob or summin?" He sat up a little and grumbled before immediately collapsing back again, getting comfy on Shiro's lap.

His thighs were amazing cushions.

Shiro gave a reluctant sigh, sticking his blunt against the wood of his coffee table, done with it. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes so much the want almost hurt his chest.

But for some reason, a hearty yes held ready on his lips, Shiro's mind traveled back to Lance. Lance, all along in his guest room. Lance, who cried fat tears the night before. Lance, the man who had given him a hasty hug in his hallway. Lance. Lance, Lance, Lance.

What would he think?

Shiro couldn't. Not with Lance in his apartment. He couldn't.

"I can't," Shiro said. "Not today. Hopefully I'll get rid of L... hopefully next week I'll get rid of whatever has me sick. Next week."

Shiro closed his eyes to keep from seeing the vague disappointment spread about Keith's pretty face. Keith pushed himself up, successfully this time, and got to his feet. He began trudging toward the door. "I'll come over again end of the week," he murmured. "If I can fucking remember to."

And the apartment door opened and fell shut. A soft click sounded. Keith, who had a spare key in his shoe, had locked the door.

Lance was sitting in his room, dead silent. He was sat behind the dresser, tucked out of sight, with Blue lying atop of him. He was waiting for a sign to say that he was able to leave. He needed to pee. He needed to pee and he'd not eaten much so he was hungry.

He glanced to the door, hearing the soft conversation die out. The scent of weed was beginning to filter into his room and he hated it. It smelled so unpleasant- he hated drugs. He hated being around drugs. He hated how he subconsciously ran through all of the reasons why he could arrest Shiro, adding 'smoking of illegal substances' to the end of the list. Right below kidnapping and threatening an officer. Well... kidnapping was a harsh term but it wasn't like he'd had a choice which meant that it fell under the term of an abduction.

He grumbled a little, running his hands through his hair. Blue whimpered at him and he shushed her, kissing the top of her head gently. "We can go out soon, alright?" She needed a walk and probably needed to pee, too. She needed to get out of the apartment- the fumes weren't good for animals, which is why he was glad that he could have the tinted windows open. Maybe more than Lance did right now. He was so uncomfortable. His butt was numb from how he was sitting on the floor for so long, too. It didn't help that he had a heavy husky lying on top of him. He was glad the animals were in here, though. Better than being out there with stupid, druggie Shiro and his idiot druggie friend.

Shiro swept the ashy ends of the blunts into his hands, and tossed them into the trash can. The bag of weed still laid open on his coffee table, the smell strong along with the heavy smoke blanketing the apartment. Shiro turned on the fan, and cracked the window, his dizzy head not liking the stuffiness.

His stomach grumbled. Munchies. He held a hand up to his gut and sighed, a bit whiny. Maybe he'd walk over to the Taco Bell a few blocks down. Better yet, maybe Lance would make him something.

A light went off in Shiro's head. Lance! His drugged mind backtracked, and he stood there a moment, brow furrowed as he thought hard. Lance was in the guest room with Black and Blue. He had been waiting for an all clear. With another sigh, this one accompanied with an accidental huff of laughter, Shiro made his slow way back to the guest room.

He opened the door, and, seeing Black perk up from her curled spot on the bed, cooed her name — forgetting about Lance again. Shiro moved forward, scooped her up, and hugged her to his chest. He barely noticed the questioning stare from Lance as the officer stood up from his cramped spot upon the floor.

"Keith's gone," Shiro said in a slur, not looking up from Black. She purred heavily in his arms. "I'm still high. Is there anything you can make for lunch or do you want Taco Bell? I dunno about you but I fuckin' want Taco Bell, man."

Lance rubbed his ass a little, Blue sitting up and whining at Shiro.

"I can make myself some lunch," he said as he pet the top of Blue's head. "But she needs to be walked and probably needs to pee, too, so can you take Blue with you? As much as I hate to leave her with you while you're intoxicated." He looked up at Shiro, frowning. "God," he muttered under his breath as he started to the door, one hand over his nose and mouth as he went through to the bathroom. "Can you open some of the windows?!"

Shiro gave a soft shrug, following Lance out. Black was still in his arms. Blue followed at his heels, still whining. "I opened up the one in the living room," he said defensively. "Only other one is in my room. Wouldn't do you any good." He gave a snort. "What? Don't like weed or something? It's, like, almost legal here. The legal-est drug."

"The legal-est illegal. Sure."

Shiro was acting like an idiot. He couldn't quite help it though — the lightness of his system left him feel as though he'd been ten feet off the ground. It left him a giddy sort of silly he'd never quite achieve while sober. Lance shut the bathroom door behind him, Blue whining at the door for him. He left shortly and turned his gaze to Shiro.

"So you're going to go to taco bell, taking Blue for a walk, and hopefully the apartment will have aired out some by the time you get back. God, you fucking stink of weed. You'll get caught out for that in a second if you leave." He picked up some deodorant and sprayed Shiro with it for a few moments. "That's... a little better. Now go, get the fuck out and get your lunch. I'll make myself a sandwich or something."

Lance gathered Blue's leash and hooked it onto her collar, handing the other end to Shiro. "Now go. I'll still be here when you get back."

Shiro smirked, following Lance around. The excessive deodorant stung his nose and made his eyes water, but he was too high to care. He set Black down on the floor and took the leash from Lance. Shiro looped it around his hand a few times, securing it tightly. He was sure, even in his burned out state, that Blue'd easily take advantage of him.

"Hmm... you said fuck," Shiro observed in a mused sort of hum, tugging on the leash a little to make sure it had been clasped tightly. "Don't tell me you kiss your mother with that mouth."

He gave a snort at his own joke, shaking his head. "Anyways -- I don't know how dogs work. Cat person, if you couldn't tell. What if she starts to pull? Do I yell at her?" Lance sighed a little and shook his head.

"No. You hold tighter to the leash and stop her from pulling you off of your feet. If she sees something and tries to chase it, hold tighter and say her name to get her attention. If it's bad, say 'heel'. It doesn't work often because Blue hates following commands but in the off chance it works- that's what you do. Also," he opened a bag and took out poop bags and a small bag of treats. "For good behaviour and for when she needs her poop collecting." He handed them to Shiro, petting the top of Blue's head. "If she sees another dog and barks, shush her. If she growls, tap her gently on the top of the head. If people ask to pet her you either say yes and get held up thirty seconds or you lie and say she bites. I don't care."

He straightened out Shiro's jacket collar.

 

"When you go into Taco Bell, find a pole to leave her at. You make her sit and clip the leash to itself around the pole. That way she won't be able to run away. She'll whimper a lot because she's a really sappy dog and when you come back out she'll jump at you. She might try to steal your food, too. Just say no, firm and loud, and she'll stop. It's what you're supposed to do when she tries and steal the pancakes someone made you for breakfast, too." He smiled a little, reaching up and neatening up Shiro's hair with his fingers. "There. That's all you need to keep in mind."

Lance's fingers graced against Shiro's forehead when he had said that. When he was fixing his hair, Lance's hand met Shiro's skin. It was a fleeting moment -- just lasting barely over a second or so. Lance's touch was delicate and gentle -- nothing but a mere skim. It was nothing. An accident. A quick second of touch. Nothing more.

But something happened in Shiro.

It might have been the drugs. It might have been his cold. It might have been his lack of sleep. It really might have just been because Shiro was touch starved. Whatever it was, it was something.

It was like a shock of electricity... but not. Like a sudden burst of hot fire... but not. Lance's touch was warm and comforting, even for that brief moment. Oddly enough though, it spread a trickling chill across his face, and sent sudden shivers down his spine. Shiro stood in a dazed over shock, the ghost of Lance's hand still tingling against the skin of his face. Even when Lance had turned away and forgotten about it Shiro felt his touch.

And it felt nice. The oddness of it. The nostalgic thrill of his system. The warmth. The electricity.

The familiarity.

It reminded him of Adam.

The similarity hit him hard; the sudden jolt of it all almost like a boot to his stomach, or a swift fist to his cheekbone. Like a crack of a whip, leaving him starstruck and dizzy. Everything about Lance brushing his hair out of his eyes... letting his fingers drag against Shiro's skin like that... it was all Adam. The simple gesture dragged Shiro back in time, despite the climateratic attempt to keep his firm grip on the present. Shiro felt the sweet buzz of Adam's touch against his head. The warmth of it. The gentleness Adam's soft chuckle as he told Shiro to tuck the left side of his shirt in a little more. The love Shiro felt in his heart when their eyes would meet and lock.

Adam...

Hastilty, Shiro turned around and made his way to the door, dragging Blue along with him. He had turned so swiftly as to keep Lance from seeing the sudden build up of tears in his eyes. He muttered a blunted goodbye, slipped out of the apartment, and closed the door. He leaned against the wall beside it, a hand on his mouth, his head tilted upwards towards the ceiling. Quiet tears made their steady descent down the sides of his face, clinging to the curvature of his jaw before slipping down his neck and into his collar. He let them fall. He let them roll down the sides of his face with a dazed impunity. All the while he tried to ground himself, gripping tighter and tighter to the leash coiled around his wrist.

That wasn't Adam. That was Lance.

Adam's gone. He died four years ago. About as alive as your right arm.

G-O-N-E.

That was Lance.

You're high as fuck. This was all just the weed. Calm down.

You're going out to eat. You're walking the dog. Lance fixed your hair. That's what happened.

That's what happened.

Blue nudged Shiro's hand with her nose, and gave a low whine. By then, he had collected himself completely, already leaning up from the wall and wiping the wetness from his cheeks. Shiro ran his hand through Blue's fur a moment, trying to further steady his breathing. She looked up at him, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, her eyes kind as she looked up at him -- ignorant and bliss. He had to guess right then and there, a high, crying mess in the hallway, that Blue wasn't all that bad.

Shiro then started off to Taco Bell, trying hard the rub the puffiness from his face.


	7. Tacos And Talk

Lance was at home. His thoughts were plagued with Shiro- why he'd left so abruptly and with such toxicity in his tone. Why he'd been so upset with him. It pestered him while he was making himself lunch- sandwiches with a pack of crisps and an apple. It irked him while he ate it with the television on.

He cleaned to distract himself, changing the television to some music channel to listen to pop and pointless adverts, soon focusing on neatening everything up, throwing out useless pieces of paper, discarding the ends of joints in a way where it wouldn't be easy for them to be discovered, as he knew from a drug case he worked a couple of years back. He vacuumed and dusted, leaving Shiro's room untouched.

The place looked much more pleasant, much more homely, when there wasn't dust everywhere and trash scattered around. He was exhausted. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a good night's sleep.

Now he was in the guest room, unpacking as he assumed he'd be with Shiro a while, the music playing from the living room TV while he emptied the bags he'd brought with him. He'd just finished putting shirts into the drawers beside the bed and hanging up jackets when he heard the door, ignoring it. If Shiro wanted to talk to him, then he'd have to make the first attempt to communicate. Lance wasn't going to risk being verbally abused just because he wanted to strike up conversation.

He settled down at a table by a vanity dresser and placed his sketchpad down, staring at the blank page in front of him. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. He had no inspiration and he'd used up all of his motivation cleaning. He glanced toward the window behind him, as if he expected inspiration to burst free from the boring, grey outside and strike him like lightning. All he noticed was that Black was curled up on his bed and he didn't seem like she'd give it up anytime soon.

Lance sighed. The cat hated him as much as Shiro did.

Shiro's venture had been quick enough. The moment he had stepped from his apartment building, Blue relieved herself on a patch of grass just beside the sidewalk. From there it had been a relaxing walk to Taco Bell and back. Fellow pedestrians caused him no trouble. Blue caused him no trouble. The line at the fast food place caused him no trouble. It was all a smooth experience, really. The only thing that really caught him off guard was the judging look of the chick who had served him. She had looked down at his baggy attire, puffed face, runny nose, and dark, weed misted eyes over the bridge of her nose, a tight frown pulling and curling at her lips. Shiro had just given her a cold sneer on his way out, trying hard to ignore her.

By the time he had opened up the door to his apartment, Blue rushing inside beside him, he had come down a bit more from his high. His head was clearer and he didn't feel as dizzy. The smell of weed hit him and his sobered up mind rather hard, and, after he had closed the door behind him, the smell prompted him to go open up the window some more. He did so and turned around, looking about his apartment.

Lance was nowhere to be found.

With a shrug, Shiro set himself down at his table and opened up his to-go bag. Four tacos; two hardshell, two softshell. A small soda. A small bag of cinnamon crisps. The best food for his trying case of the munchies. Blue sat in her usual spot by his leg, looking up at him with those begging eyes. Her tail thumped hard against the flooring everytime Shiro would slip her a bit of beef or a sugary crisp of cinnamon.

Around his third taco in, he had pulled out his phone and took a peek at his reflection in the camera. It was in case Lance would come back out... not that Shiro really cared what Lance thought of him. He just hoped Lance wouldn't have been able to pick up on the fact that'd he'd been crying. Just the idea alone was enough to make Shiro's insides burn with bitter shame. He couldn't quite imagine how awful it'd be if Lance tried to offer his sympathy. His pity. Ugh.

Shiro's eyes were still red and a bit hazy, and the tip of his nose and his cheeks were still flushed the slightest color of pink. He could blame it all on the weed. Easy. He tossed his phone back onto the table, and dug back into his meal.

Lance came through shortly. He sat down in the seat opposite Shiro, the cat plodding along behind him and beginning to rub against Shiro's leg, purring loudly to get his attention.

"Successful trip?" Lance's voice came, the male softly cursing himself for his inability to stick to the one thing he told himself not to do- greet Shiro or interact with him without being addressed first.

His eyes flickered around the room. "I-I mean... you- you have the tacos so I'd... I'd assume so, yes. Sorry, stupid question. It was a stupid question." He grit his teeth, already wishing he'd just stayed silent. His thoughts were acting up, freaking out, cursing and shaming him for behaving poorly or not being able to cope with certain social situations out of impulsive decisions to talk or try to cheer people up.

He had his arms folded over his chest, hugging himself in an attempt to comfort, console himself. Coax himself out of anxious thoughts telling him he was behaving poorly or being stupid- like he expected himself to think about. Like he always thought about. Like he'd thought about when he'd first told a girl he'd like her, the first time he'd told a boy he liked him, first times he got rejected. The time that he'd accidentally said a secret to the wrong person, every little slip-up or humiliating moment. This was no different. He was just hoping Shiro wouldn't insult him for asking. It wouldn't help. At all.

Shiro gave a soft shrug. "It went fine," he mumbled, disregarding Lance's sheepishness. Shiro glanced upwards, seeing the empty space on the table before Lance. "Do... do you want any? There's a soft shell in here I'm not gonna finish."

Lance's eyes flickered to Shiro and he nodded.

"If you're sure you don't want it," he said as he looked to Shiro, waiting until he was given the food he was promised, not bold enough to just reach in and take it. If Shiro changed his mind and he'd already grabbed it, he wasn't exactly sure what he'd say. He was overthinking, he was well aware of his habit of overthinking, but that didn't mean that he'd stop doing it. He was too busy worrying about how likely it was that Shiro was deceiving him or attempting to test his obedience or some shit. His brain was force-feeding him shitty ideas and toxic thoughts and he just had to deal with it.

Shiro, after noticing the awkwardly long and inactive pause from Lance's side, pushed the bag across the table. He took mental note of Lance's newly acquired skittishness, watching as Lance dug around for his taco and some sauce packets. Shiro recognized the nervous flicker of his eyes, and remember the sheepish backtracking of his sentences from earlier. Just then, Lance had been fumbling with the wrapping for his lunch, his movements stiff. He reeked of both attitudes and auras Shiro could recognize in mere heartbeats. Distraction. Anxiousness. Pressure.

What could it be? Was Lance still frightened of him? After he had saved his life? After he had eaten Lance's food? After he had accepted his drawing? After he had seen Lance cry? After they had hugged? Shiro thought Lance was finally coming around to at least trusting him a bit. Enough to make them functional for the next few weeks, at least. Only then it seemed as though Lance had reverted back into his mindset from when they met in the coffee shop, or when Blue first jumped Shiro for his sub.

Shiro, despite his mind telling him that Lance's fear was a good thing, felt his skin crawl a bit. He couldn't quite tell if he was annoyed or angered or bitter or just uncomfortable with the recurrence of Lance's paranoia. Whatever the feeling had been, he didn't quite like it.

Shiro glanced down at his bag of cinnamon crisps, frowning. He juggled the idea of commenting something about it back and forth about his head. Would Lance think it rude of him? Would Lance think he was being thoughtful? Either outcome carried an odd mixture of good and bad. Thinking about it almost gave him a headache.

Out of impulse, and whatever weed was still left in his system, Shiro have a slight lift of his shoulders and took his shot.

"What's up with you? Why are you all weird all of a sudden?" He kept his voice at a grumble, but not a harsh one -- a fine balance. "Is it the weed?" Lance tensed a little when he was addressed, looking up at Shiro. He had a mouthful of taco. He continued chewing, soon swallowing and wiping his mouth a little.

"I-I am?" he asked nervously as he sat up straighter, his eyes darting around the room. "I mean... no, it- it isn't the weed. It's nothing, I just..." he rubbed his eyes a little and sighed as he coaxed his hands through his hair, taking another small bite of his taco. "I dunno. Bad day, I think. My head's just a little... fuzzy." He wrapped his arms around himself.

He waited a moment before setting the taco down, wrapping his arms around himself anxiously. "I don't know. Sorry. I can try to be less... 'weird', if you'd prefer?" he suggested, just not wanting to be unpleasant company. He already knew he was failing at it, anyway. He took another bite of the soft shell, stuffing his mouth before he could say anything stupid. Anything else stupid, anyway.

Shiro rose his shoulders again, feeling as though he wasn't quite getting his point across. "I... it's whatever, man," he mumbled. "You just seemed jumpy or something. I dunno. Probably just me." Lance nodded a little, knowing fully well that it wasn't 'just him' and instead that he was acting weirdly.

He stuffed the rest of the cinnamon crisps into his mouth in one last effort of eating, and then stood up, his trash in hand. Shiro made his way to the garbage can, and noticed with a sudden surprise it hadn't been overflowing. He cocked his head, and looked around a little. The whole place had been cleaned up -- the counters and the windows were wiped of fingerprints, the floor was swept and shining, the ashy blunts were gone. Shiro gave a soft frown, and turned his attention back to Lance, who had been anxiously downing the last bit of his taco.

"Did you clean or something?" Lance turned his gaze back to Shiro and nodded.

"I clean when I get stressed," he said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "And I ended up tidying the entire apartment. Aside from your room, of course, but everywhere else is clean." He stood and began clearing away the trash from the Taco Bell, then wiping the grease and the crumbs from the table with a damp cloth. "It just something I do to clear my head because I don't need to think too much."

Shiro gave a slow blink, and then gave a soft shake of his head. "Uh, alright," he mumbled. He started to make his way into the living room, Black twisting around his ankles -- back and forth. "I guess that's good for me. This place gets fuckin' disgusting after a while." Lance laughed softly.

"I swear, half the stuff I had to throw out had started a life by the time it got thrown out. I mean- how old were those pizza boxes? I thought there was an entire ecosystem of mould in there." He smiled as he opened the freezer, beginning to rummage around. "I'm going to start choosing what to have for dinner. You in the mood for anything?"

Shiro plopped himself down on the sofa. He gave a low sigh, and put a hand on his stomach. "I dunno. You choose. I already feel like I'm gonna barf," he said with a slick grin. "And by the way, I was making a collection of pizza boxes. You owe me all seven pies, fucker." Lance laughed softly as he rummaged through the freezer, soon digging out a chicken and setting it on the counter as he repacked the freezer and put everything away.

"Chicken it is, then. Just remember not to give much of this to Blue. The skins will be okay and occasionally some meat but the bones are small and can easily be ignored. The bones are bad for dogs because they splinter." He turned to Shiro, smiling, about to talk when Blue began barking and whining loudly from the living room- Black had scratched her nose.

Shiro rolled his eyes, leaned down and scooped Black up. Blue watched them nervously, her tail tucked between her legs as she paced back and forth, wondering if she wanted to hop up on the sofa next to them. Shiro put a hand behind Black's ear, and pet her until she purred.

"I don't think Black likes your dog too much," he snorted, giving Blue a cute pout. Blue had dropped onto the floor and was lying there with both of her paws over her nose, whimpering and whining loudly. Lance came through and sat beside her, petting the top of her head and rubbing behind her ears.

"Black doesn't like me, either. I think she just scratches too much," he said as Blue moved over and rested her head on his lap, still whining and whimpering as Lance pet her and kissed her and praised her.

He sighed a little. At least it was clear where Blue had got the dramatic flair from- it wasn't like Lance was too much less dramatic. He kissed the top of Blue's head and finally she quietened down- only to immediately go back to sniffing Black and trying to befriend her. Lance used his arm to block the next scratch and ordered Blue to bed. She plodded to the bedroom with a disheartened whine. They were too similar, Blue and Lance. Eager to befriend and couldn't take a damn hint- not even when it got themselves and others hurt.

Shiro leaned his head back on the couch and sighed. He sniffed the air, and furrowed his brow. "Does it still stink like weed in here or can I shut the window? I smell the garbage truck making rounds."Lance shrugged a little as he shut the window, soon sat down on the couch beside Shiro.

"I think it's alright now." He got comfy on the leather sofa, closing his eyes. "I'm not used to not going to work. Usually I'd have arrested someone by now or I'd be filling out paperwork. It was fun. Even the miserable paperwork was enjoyable." he smiled to himself wistfully, enjoying thinking of work and refraining from letting himself think of how unlikely it was that he'd see them again.

Shiro gave a heavy snort, standing up to go shut the window. He set Black down on the sofa, and made his way over to the wall. "Fucking police officers," he said with a sarcastic wistfulness. "I'm supposed to hate you guys." Shiro pulled down the window, and locked it, flicking the latch. He pulled the drapes, and went back to the couch. He stretched, yawned, and rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired. He'd benefit from a nap...

Lance laughed softly.

"You love me too much to hate officers," he said as he looked at Shiro, smiling a little upon settling down on the chair. Black had sat down on the seat furthest to the left and he was taking up the next two cushions as Lance was sat on the cushion furthest to the right to avoid displeasing the spoilt cat.

Shiro had hid his discomfort at the word love fairly well, but he still gave a clear roll of his eyes. "Don't push your luck," he said smartly, throwing Lance a look from the sides of his eyes. "So, workaholic, what the hell are you gonna do when you're living on the down low? Can't really arrest drug lords in... where was it you wanted to go? The country?" Lance nodded.

"The country," he confirmed. "And I wanted to run a bookstore. They're always so quaint and pleasant in places like the countryside and it's always so soothing. In small towns you'd get to know everyone who visits and know what they come to buy to have it ready- I don't know, it's always just seemed like a pretty pleasant way to live." He settled down in the corner of the couch, his eyes closed. He only opened them when he felt paws on his lap. Black came over, sat down, and silently curled up in his lap without any kind of warning. Lance wasn't sure if he'd make it out alive if he attempted to pet him so he just stayed dead still.

"Oh yeah. You said something about that too, didn't you?" Shiro gave a shake of his head. The weed had finally ebbed away from his system -- only the ghost of his earlier discombobulation remained. "Not exactly the answer you'd hear from a fucking p-... officer, I guess. Why the hell did you get into law shit? That's like... the exact opposite of what you wanted." Lance shrugged.

"You earn a lot a year and I wanted to be the kind of person my family would be proud of. I want to be someone my siblings could look up to, to be there to help them and anyone else who needed help or protection." He smiled to himself, before catching his vulnerability and looking back at Shiro. "Besides- most girls really dig the badge. Not many people can say 'fuck the police' and mean it literally."

Oh shit he's straight?

Shiro had to physically stop himself from blurting the comment out aloud. He lifted a hand to his mouth, and then acted as though he had just been rubbing his nose. He couldn't quite tell what his real reaction had been. Surprise? For sure. Shiro could have been a hundred percent sure his gaydar had been rather top notch. Hell, wasn't he supposed to be really good at telling who was gay and who wasn't? That was the whole trope with gay guys wasn't it? Shiro didn't quite know... he kept away from all that most of the time anyways.

What else was that he felt? A dull sense of disappointment? But why? Why would he care if Lance was fucking straight or not? It wasn't like... it wasn't like Shiro had been catching-

Oh, no way in hell Shiro would even let himself think such an idea.

He gave a sigh and an uncomfortable rub of his neck. Shiro shifted a bit awkwardly on the sofa, and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh alright," he grumbled. "There are other ways to be cool ya know? Didn't need to be an officer." Lance began petting the top of Black's head, scratching between her ears. The cat, too tired to fight against him, began letting out soft purrs.

"Yeah, I guess so. But- I don't know. I've just always kinda respected the badge and admired the people who risk their lives to make the world better. I dunno." He smiled a little, Black now nudging his hand to get more scratches. Lance smiled a little, feeling that the both of them were warming up to him. "It also gave me a solid goal. A criteria that I could reach without too much issue and a reason to study." He smiled. "And the way my ma talks about it at family dinners, showing off that her son is doing everything he can to keep people safe. It means that if anything happens to incriminate my siblings, they know that they can come to me about it and I'll do everything I can to try to prove them innocent. They also know to confess to me if they do anything and I'll work to get them a reduced sentence- or at least not a racially-biased long sentence. It just puts me in a position of trust in the house. They have my graduation picture framed on the wall, too. Right next to a baby picture! I mean- am I supposed to have a dignified reputation or not?" He joked, grinning as he spoke, just rambling.

He was clearly incredibly proud of himself for his job. "It's too bad I only solved a few cases before this. I was mostly on patrol- breaking up fights and stopping theft- but then I got assigned my first proper case and I was so happy. I finished it in three days, just working non-stop. That's when I got the case that led me to the warehouse. I worked a few minor felonies before I solved that and attempted to take you down myself." His smile turned a little sad now, but he still had pride in his voice. He'd worked hard while he was an officer and he'd hopefully be remembered for hard work- not the incident where the coffee machine broke and shot the coffee horizontally instead of pouring it into the cup. He'd had coffee all over his uniform and ended up borrowing one of Hunk's shirts for the day. Allura had videoed it from the second she'd realised coffee was being poured on him. Lance hesitated a moment before turning to Shiro.

"Can I borrow your phone? I think there's a video on youtube of an incident at work. Involving a broken coffee machine and yours truly."

"Yeah sure," Shiro muttered, his voice quieter than before. "It's on the counter."

He watched Lance get up and hunt for the cell, uncomfortable again. The way Lance spoke.... what he said... it had Shiro turned all the wrong ways. That familiar sense from earlier creeped at the very corners of his consciousness, coiling up the softest little hint of anxiety in his stomach. Lance's goals and his morals and his slight mention of his family's pride in him... it was all just a little off putting... considering it all sounded like a younger Takashi Shirogane's point of view.

Shiro gave an involuntary shiver and rubbed his shoulder with his prosthetic. Dumb Lance. Why was it everything he would say make Shiro's head all confused and hurt and nostalgic? He looked back up to Lance who leaned up on the counter, picking up Shiro's phone.

"The password's Patience," he called quietly. "Capital P."

Lance looked at him for a moment before tapping the password in. He came back over, sitting down. Black, who'd leapt up the second he'd stood, took refuge in his lap again. He opened youtube and typed in 'POLICE OFFICER ASSAULTED BY COFFEE MACHINE' and clicked the first video, posted by Allura_Altea. He handed Shiro the phone so that he could watch a full minute of Lance stood by the coffee machine, having hot water shot at him like a fire hydrant. He smiled a little as he continued petting Black, the cat curled up contently into an orb of darkness on his lap.

Shiro gave a tired snicker, shaking his head a little. "That looks like it fucking sucked. Awesome," he snorted, trying to shove away the feelings from before with comedy. Once the video was over, he clicked the phone off. "Who's filming? Your girlfriend or something?" Lance turned red.

"I- No, no, Allura's not my girlfriend. She was in the academy with me and I had a crush on her since I first saw her but like- no, not at all. She's got a girlfriend, anyway- Romelle. And I kinda... Dunno, I've not been too interested in women lately." He smiled a little at the purring from the cat on his lap, pulling his hand back shortly and letting Black sleep. "I don't know. It's confusing. But to answer the question, no. Allura's not my girlfriend- her standards are way too high for that."

"Alright alright. Whatever" Shiro said sarcastically, giving a sly smirk. He leaned back on the couch. "So you don't have a girlfriend? Haha. Fuckin' loser." Lance flushed red and looked at the cat on his lap to divert his attention.

"What about you? Got a girlfriend, or are you joining me in the loser club?" he asked after a moment shifting awkwardly where he sat while being extremely careful not to disturb Black.

Shiro gave a loud laugh. "I don't have a goddamn girlfriend, man. I'm gay," he said on impulse.

Instant regret flooded him, like boiling water through his veins. Shiro's face drained of color rather swiftly, and he leaned up. Desperately, he tried to change the tone of the atmosphere. "And, uh then there's mafia shit. Can't really put my name or face on dating websites, obviously. I have excuses. You don't"

He was getting too casual. The thought had been biting at him the entire interaction. Shiro twiddled his thumbs and waited for whatever painstakingly humiliating reaction Lance would offer his blurted outing and rushed change of attitude. Lance's eyes widened a little.

"You're gay?" he asked, turning his attention fully to Shiro. "Really? You- I mean- You don't really look gay," he said as he studied his face, as if he expected him to laugh and announce that he was joking. "But- oh my god I'm an idiot- that, that's why Keith came over, isn't it?"

Shiro gave a low groan and held his hand up to his face. "I 'don't look gay'? Jesus Christ that was such a straight thing of you to say," he muttered, face starting to glow red beneath his fingers. Shiro peeked out from his hand and narrowed his eyes. "But yeah. That's why Keith came over. You're lucky I just wanted to get high -- this apartment has thin walls. Not very soundproof."

"A- A straight thing?" he asked, frowning. "I'm bi, dude. I just didn't expect you to be gay. I dunno why not. I just didn't really consider it- was too busy focusing on my potentially imminent death." He sighed a little. "And yeah, thanks for not having sex with Keith." He groaned a little, his own cheeks turning red. "And how are you feeling?" He was eager to change the subject. "I swear you were sick just this morning."

Not straight. Called it. Shiro bit his tongue to keep from saying anything, but he let his gloating smile remain upon his face. "I'm fine. The cold medicine and the weed helped. I'm just fuckin' tired," Shiro answered, glad Lance had changed the topic. "I haven't slept in like-"

Too casual, Shiro. You don't want his sympathy. Too casual.

Shiro paused, backtracking. "I'm just tired. That's something weed and cold medicine don't fix. I'd need cocaine or something for that... not that I have any sorts of drugs on this premise, officer." He made sure to oil up the last bit with his slickest tone of sarcasm. Lance looked at him and rolled his eyes.

"Shut up," he remarked with a sly grin. "What's the worst I can do? Arrest you and get us both killed by the mafia? I'd really rather let you deal drugs and stay hidden in the guest room. I'll pretend I don't know about it, promise," he teased with a smile. "Though I am making a mental list of what you could, theoretically, be arrested for. Dunno why, it just amuses me. It's a way to pass the time, I suppose."

Shiro rose his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" He asked smugly, cocking his head a bit to the side. "What's on the list then? Besides, you know, the obvious stuff like drugs and murder." Lance smiled a little.

"Possession, selling, and usage of drugs, possession of illegal firearms, money laundering, threatening an officer,, honestly it's not too difficult to start a list of reasons why you should be arrested. And murder? Wh-Who have you killed? You shouldn't be so casual about that."

Shiro paused a moment, wondering if he had messed up. "Just whoever Zarkon tells me to. Most of 'em have it comin' anyways," he mumbled with a shrug. "Why not be so casual about it? Part of my life I guess. Not like I have any fuckin' choice. Might as well embrace it or go insane with guilt trying to ignore it."

That might have been a little too much to say. Shiro turned to look at the quiet television, and swung his legs up on the coffee table, trying to ignore Lance's stare from his peripheral. He waiting a bit impatiently for a response. Lance just nodded, though, not knowing how to respond for a few painfully long minutes.

When he did speak, his voice was riddled with anxiousness once more, full of an apprehensive kind of awkwardness. He licked his lips.

"You don't seem to like your job," he began, struggling to find his voice and keep ahold of it. "I mean... it's got to be high-paying, but is that why you do it? Or can't you leave? I don't really know too much about mafias." A small, dry laugh escaped him at the end of the final sentence but he quietened down again after, waiting to either be told to shut up or to get an answer.

Shiro held his stare on the television, his whole body stiffening a bit. He clenched his jaw, and grit his teeth a bit behind his lips — but stayed silent for a good moment or so. After another uncomfortably long stretch of silence, he figured he should have said one thing, at least.

"Once you're in you don't get out," he said in a monotone sort of voice. With a hesitant hand, he pointed towards his arm. "There's consequences."

Shiro, feeling as though the air had suddenly left the room, stood up. He brushed off his legs, gave a fake stretch, and jutted his thumb towards the hall. He still would not look at Lance.

"I'm gonna shower," he said simply, before turning away. He left Lance alone on the couch.

Lance nodded. He stayed quiet and soon retreated to his room, petting the top of Black's head and getting scratched before disappearing into guest room. He shut the door and curled up on the bed, his eyes focused on Shiro and thinking about his arm. He didn't know what exactly had happened but he really, really wanted to. He hated his curiosity.


	8. Long Night

Shiro's shower was quick. He didn't even really want to take a shower just then anyways. It was the middle of the day and he wasn't going anywhere as far as he knew -- all the more reason to just lounge and lay about and get high again or something. He shouldn't have had to worry about showering and getting dressed and all that other fuss, but the shower was the first thing that popped into his head and left his lips. It seemed to be the best excuse for getting away from Lance in the moment. Shiro knew it was odd and random, and he knew Lance knew it was as well, but he said what he said and he went with it.

He washed himself, towelled himself dry, and left to his room to get dressed into yet another set of sweatpants and hoodie. Shiro had peeked over the corner of the hall into the living room to see if Lance had still been there, though. When he saw nothing but a dozing dog upon the floor and a curled up cat upon the couch, Shiro casted a glance to the closed door of the guest room, and then slipped rather quickly into his own. He dressed himself, rubbed his eyes, and then sat down at the edge of the bed, wondering if there was anything he could do.

Whatever it was, he hoped Lance would keep his nose out of it. The more and more Shiro thought of their interaction from earlier, the more and more he felt as though he tasted copper on his tongue. He flicked through their conversation as though he'd been thumbing through files in the desk drawer, frowning bitterly at each embarrassingly casual file he found. They spoke as though they had been friends almost... Shiro had teased Lance as a close associate, not an enemy. He had spoken to him like he had spoken to Keith. Jesus, Shiro had come out to him.

Shiro put a hand up to his head and let himself cringe. That couldn't have mattered too much... it was too... it was too rash.

Had it been an impulsive decision? Yeah, of course. It had simply just slipped out. He hadn't been thinking. Did Lance take anything away from it? No. Just a dull surprise, really. Lance had come out himself... sort of... Shiro had to admit. Though the nonchalant attitude about him when Lance had said his blunt 'I'm bi, dude' made Shiro think it couldn't have been that big of a deal for him. Did Shiro really care about Lance knowing he was gay? No... not really. He'd stop caring about what people thought of his being gay after his parents kicked him out on the streets of New York with a cat and a pile of his medical bills his health insurance didn't cover.

So did it matter?

He sure hoped not.

Shiro stood up and left his room. He gave a soft sigh at the stillness of his apartment -- that sweet silence set atop the white noises of pets snoring and outside traffic. Shiro moved over to the window, and leaned forward on the sill, looking out into whatever bit of the city he could see beside the ugly brick building sat just ten or so feet ahead. Most of what he could see was pedestrians, and maybe the tippy tops of further skyscrapers. A flock of pigeons, maybe. He stood there, tired and watchful, looking at nothing for what seemed to be a long time.

Lance left the room silently around an hour later. He was stood behind Shiro, not sure what to say, so he simply entered the kitchen. The atmosphere was too tense for him to turn on the radio so instead he just began looking through the freezer for what to cook. He'd not been doing anything while he was in his room. He'd just been sitting in bed, murmuring to himself and trying to get the sense to leave so he could make dinner.

He decided spaghetti bolognese would be good, something quick and easy, and filled a saucepan with water, leaving it on the stove to heat up while he began making the sauce. He left the radio off despite hating the silence and kept making dinner, assuming that it would be best for Shiro if they didn't interact. It'd be better for him, too, though. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble.

Shiro had noticed Lance's presence a good amount of minutes after Lance had actually started cooking. He had smelt the sauce cooking -- that familiar scent of garlic and tomato paste snapping him from his dazed watching of the pigeons. Shiro turned around slowly, leaned up against the wall, and watched Lance cook. Only a few times did their eyes meet -- times where Lance would look up from the counter, or turn around to grab a mixing spoon from the drawer. They were fleeting moments, and often ended with sheepishly averted glances, but they happened. And everytime it did, Shiro felt like his heart had been in his throat.

After a while of that, Shiro got the sense that Lance would be finishing up soon. He wasn't anywhere near hungry... but he wasn't quite full still. He just felt a little numb, he guessed. Nevertheless, he made his way to the table and sat down in his seat, cupping his head in his hands. Blue, woken up by the smells of food and the sounds of Shiro's chair, trotted her way to her spot by his side. She waited for pets, but to no avail.

Shiro still watched Lance.

"Didn't you say you were making chicken?" Shiro said after a while, snapping the heavy silence in two. Lance tensed involuntarily and glanced back at him.

"I, uhh, figured it'd be best to save it for tomorrow," he said as he took the pasta, putting it into the pot and sighing softly. "I'm a little tired, I'm sorry. I promise I'll do that tomorrow but now, spaghetti bolognese is easier," he said softly, starting to worry that he was being selfish of letting Shiro down. He began mixing the pot and sighed a little as he looked at him. His eyes flickered to Blue as she jumped onto Shiro's lap, mistaking herself for a lapdog as she began licking his neck to get attention.

Lance whistled sharply at her. "Blue, down, now!" He said, snapping his fingers, watching her whine and look to Shiro for a second opinion before jumping off of his lap. Black walked in, allowing Blue to divert her focus to another unwilling bystander. Lance looked back at what he was cooking. "Would you rather have chicken? I could save the bolognese or I could mix in chicken?"

Shiro gave a roll of his eyes. His attempt to start conversation had backfired, yet again. "It's whatever," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders.

Shiro suddenly found he had missed Blue up against him -- he was cold and unhappy, she was warm and ignorantly bliss. He guessed right then and there, looking Blue in her multicolored eyes, that having a dog around wasn't all that bad. Shiro wondered if he'd miss her when Lance was gone.

"Pasta is faster to eat anyways. I just want to eat dinner, take some more cold medicine, and then go to bed. The weed wore off and my headache's fuckin' killing me again."

Headache. Headache, headache, headache. Was it really his cold that made his temples pound like that? No. Of course it wasn't. Shiro reached up and rubbed at his head, closing his eyes. Lance paused his cooking to get out some paracetamol and a glass of water, handing it to Shiro. "This might help," he said softly before returning to the stove. He began cooking the bolognese and stirred the spaghetti, watching Blue get nuzzled by a purring Black before she turned her attention back to Shiro. She trotted over happily and placed her head on his lap, her tongue hanging out, waiting for pets. Lance didn't notice this time so he didn't stop her.

Dinner was ready in about fifteen minutes. Lance served two bowls and set them down at the table, getting the cutlery before seating himself opposite Shiro.

"Is your headache any better?" he asked, beginning to twirl the spaghetti around his fork.

No, not really, his head answered, throbbing with each word.

"Yeah, I guess," Shiro muttered, shrugging.

He poked at his food with his fork, wondering if he could stuff that whole bowl down. With his other hand, Shiro rubbed on Blue's head. Petting her was nice... it felt nice anyways. She leaned into his hand, her eyes closed and content — just like Black would whenever Shiro would give her some chin scratches.

His eyes on the happy dog, Shiro took a bite of his pasta, instantly loving the flavor. It was like the steak from the other night; bursting with flavor and spices and homemade charm. Shiro held the taste in his mouth, savoring it a moment before he had his next bite.

"Where the hell did you learn how to cook?" Shiro asked, trying to sound as disinterested as he could through the mouthful of spaghetti. Lance smiled softly, his cheeks turning a little pink at what he could assume was praise.

"Ah, I was taught by my ma. Home cooking. I didn't cook too much until I was with Hunk and he helped teach me what I didn't know." He smiled, eating, proud of himself for the food he had cooked. "Hunk taught me what cheap foods to get and how to make a gourmet mood out of the kind of food you got for a dollar." He licked his lips, happy that his food was to Shiro's liking.

He ate quickly, having been hungrier than he'd expected, smiling to himself as he set the fork down in the empty bowl. Blue had jumped up to Shiro's lap by now, her tail wagging quickly.

Shiro picked about his food some more, eating slower than Lance. He gave Blue a noodle or two, ate four or five more bites, and then proceeded to play with the rest like an uninterested child. It was good. Shiro just wasn't hungry enough for it. He was never hungry anymore unless it was with the munchies.

"You talk about your mom a lot," Shiro muttered without thinking. His eyes widened, and he felt his blood shoot cold. Shiro instantly wanted to kick himself — and he really almost did too. Regret flooded his system, clenching his jaw and casting his hard eyes onto the table. Ignoring the impulse to shove his heel into his calf, Shiro continued on with his point, figuring it was too late. "I guess you guys are close."

Shiro waited for an answer, preparing himself for tears like the night before. Lance smiled.

"Yeah, we were," he said as he looked at Shiro. "She's sweet. She's always been sweet." he licked his lips. "And she works hard, too. She's a teacher," he explained as he stood, taking his plate and beginning to wash up. "Has to deal with kids all day only to come home and deal with more kids. I used to have to look after them before I went to the academy and during breaks while she relaxed. It was the best part of the day, having the kids all asleep and being able to sit with my ma and she would look more relaxed than she did all day. She'd thank me for looking after them and I'd tell her it was no problem, anything for her because she already does a lot."

He set the clean plate aside and approached. "Are you done eating?" He reached out to take the plate, his eyes flickering to the dog with her head on Shiro's lap. "She's taken a liking to you," he noted fondly.

Shiro nodded, pushing his half empty plate towards Lance's grasp. "Yeah, I guess so," he said with a shrug, reaching down to rub on Blue's chest. "It's probably just because I feed her." Lance laughed softly.

"Probably," he said as Blue dropped onto her back to give Shiro access to her belly for pats. "She's that kind of a dog. She's best friends with anyone who has food to spare," he said with a grin, discarding the spaghetti and turning to look at the two of them. Blue's tail thumped on the floor rhythmically, the wagging getting twice as fast the second that Shiro's hand began petting her.

"Who would have thought that all this shit was enough to turn me into a dog person," Shiro grumbled a bit sarcastically. He rolled his eyes, and gave a rather theatrical gagging noise. "Ugh. Saying it out loud almost hurts me."

Moving over and sitting down on the floor beside Blue, Lance turned his eyes to Shiro. "Oh, she's not too bad," he said with a grin as his eyes turned back the husky. She was looking at Shiro with a goofy expression, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. "Anyway," he began as he stood once more. "We should probably talk about moving. I need to go somewhere else, right? It'd not be fair for me to continue leeching off of you for... god knows how long."

Shiro nodded, thinking a plan of action over in his head. He turned round in his chair, his knees pointed towards Lance, and his arm draped lazily over the backrest. His right hand touched at his chin in thought.

"First thing's first -- you need cash," Shiro started his speech slow, the words that left his lips now cautious and completely deliberate. "Drawing out whatever you had in your bank account right now would be too risky. The cops could trace it. I'll have to work a couple... jobs to get you what you need -- which is enough for a fixer upper somewhere in the South. I'm thinking Tennessee since the property taxes are so low. Tennessee sound good to you?" Lance nodded.

"Anywhere," he said simply with a small shrug. "You're risking a lot, I'm not going to be picky." He licked his lips a little and diverted his attention to whatever he next could. "How much cash are we looking at?" He really hoped it wouldn't be too much- "Wait, wait, jobs? You mean like- like... like the job you had to kill me?" He questioned, sitting up. "So you're going to have to kill more people? Or, or sell more drugs? What?"

Shiro held his hands up a little. "Woah, woah, Lance. Slow down," he said, not liking how fast paced Lance's words had been getting. "Cash wise for both transport and a place for you would at least be 30,000 dollars. Which isn't that bad considering I usually get paid around ten thousand or more every big job I get done. You'd be living a bit rough for the first couple months I'm sure, but I'll try to get you money every now and then I guess."

He paused a moment, thinking about how he was going to address Lance's second series of questions. "And... yeah. Simple answer is yeah, I'm probably going to have to get my hands dirty. That's what my whole thing is, Lance. I am in the mafia, you know." Shiro leaned back in his chair, and tilted his head to the side. "I'd guess you'll be here for another week or so. If things start to get a bit too hairy I'll dig into my personal savings though. I don't want to but I'd rather give up some personal cash than have my boss find out you're still alive."

Lance just nodded, falling silent as he stared blankly at the floor. He felt shit. Honestly, it would have been better if Shiro hadn't put in the effort to save him. Not in a mopey, 'I'd be better off dead' kind of way, but convenience-wise. Shiro would be able to save his money, his family and friends would know what had happened to him. Overall, it just would have been more convenient.

"Why do you still live here if you get paid so much?" He asked, frowning, as his eyes fixed on Shiro. "This place is really small and in a shitty area in town. Why do you stay here?" He traced circles on the couch absently as he spoke, his eyes flickering from Shiro to Blue.

Shiro had opened his mouth to answer, but nothing seemed to have come out. It took a few long seconds of closing and parting his lips in a repeating motion of pure dumbfoundedness before he could fish out an answer. "I... I don't know," he mumbled abashedly. "Moving's just... it's a lot I guess. Especially in the City. I have the money just... not the motivation I guess." Shiro gave a wan gesture to his apartment. "Besides, this is enough I guess. It's just me and Black. Usually, anyways." Lance just nodded.

"Yeah, when you don't have Keith here for sex and you're not harbouring a missing cop." He smiled a little.

He stood shortly, stretching his hands over his head and settling on his feet. Blue stood up when she saw him do so, rolling to get her paws under her and wobbling while she recovered her balance. She began plodding along beside Lance as he started back to his room. He yawned a little. "I'm gonna grab my clothes and shower, is that alright?" He asked as he brought over his bag, digging out some clean pyjamas and a towel. He glanced to Shiro. "I'm going to sleep afterwards. I haven't got much else to do to kill time."

Shiro gave a soft shrug. "Yeah, man, whatever," he said, turning back to sit correctly in his chair. He leaned on the table, cupping his head in his hands a bit tiredly. "I'm not the boss of you." Lance let out a soft laugh.

"I know, just wanted to make sure you didn't plan on showering first," he only said as he stood. He began through to the bathroom and turned on the shower before shutting and locking the door. He'd try not to take too long- he'd ideally only be half an hour at most.

While Lance had been in the shower, Shiro sat at the kitchen table for a while, wondering. Wondering, wondering, wondering. He didn't quite know what he'd been so thoughtful about himself -- all he knew had been that he was thoughtful, and the was thinking hard about whatever it was he'd been thinking about. It was like a brief dissociation... but not. Like he was high... but not.

You're probably just really fuckin' tired, man.

Suddenly, the idea of his bed seemed a strange kind of sublime. Shiro stood, collected Black from the sofa in one protective scoop to his chest, and made his way to his bedroom. He shut the door behind him, let Black down beside her cushion, and shuffled tiredly towards his messy bed sheets. With a sigh--one so huffed and long it seemed as though he'd just been trying shove out all of the past two days from his system in one long breath--Shiro eased into bed and curled up in his blankets. He shut his eyes tight and told his head to wind down for a few hours, hopeful for sleep.

Two restless nights in a row had to add up to one good night of sleep... right?

Wrong.

Lance got out of the shower after an hour. A little longer than intended. He dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist while he dried and combed his hair, sorting out his parting. Then he slid on his pyjamas, opening the bathroom door.

The apartment was dark- Lance assumed Shiro had turned off the lights before going to his room to sleep. Lance saw Blue lying by Shiro's door and smiled a little. He sat down beside her and pet her soft fur. "You're going to need a bath soon, baby," he said in a loving, high-pitched voice, smiling. "You're going to stink and then Shiro will complain about how bad you smell so I'm going to give you a bath tomorrow while he's out!" He said decisively. Blue was unable to understand so she just hooked one paw over his hand and began pulling it to her mouth to lick and 'bite' him. He smiled, about to stand and summon her back to his room so that he could go to sleep when Shiro caught his attention again.

Surprisingly, nightmares were rare for Shiro.

Maybe once every few months he'd wake from a night terror -- sat up straight in his bed, sweaty and pale and trembly and terrified. Maybe once every six or seven months, if he was lucky enough. They were fleeting... but they were bad. Bad in the sense they were enough to knock him from his senses for a good while. They would leave him out of work for the next day or so with Zarkon's permission, curled up on the couch with Black or even on some occasions Keith. Most of his nightmares occured when the going got tough. When he was most stressed and when he was most thoughtful and when he was most remembering.

So Shiro had to admit it wasn't too much of a shock when, only about an hour after he had fallen asleep, he had woken up with a scream.

Shiro didn't remember dreams -- good or bad. He never did. They'd leave him when he awoke, just slipping from his grasp as the very moment his eyes would open and he'd think his first thought. All he'd get were slivers and flashes, and the feelings those dreams left behind in his system. Just then -- that night he sat hunched over, gasping for breath -- he only remembered snippets of Zarkon and of blood. Maybe Adam. Probably Adam.

They were always about Adam.

His mind was clogged and fogged with messy strips of memory, discombobulating him to the point he couldn't quite know what had been up and what had been down. His stomach was turning. His head was splintering. His heart was pounding. His breathing seemed useless. There were only two things he knew with a complete and total certainty:

He was scared.

And he was alone.

Lance had jolted and gasped at the scream and he had acted on impulse. He'd opened the door, keeping Blue out, and dashed over to Shiro. He knelt on the bed beside him. After a couple fruitless attempts to talk to Shiro, Lance had situated himself on the bed beside him and brought Shiro to lie down on his chest, holding him firmly and protectively with one arm wrapped around his waist.

He paid no attention to anything in Shiro's room. He didn't bat an eyelid at the decoration or think of the softness of the bed- all he focused on was Shiro. He was trembling. He could feel Shiro shaking in his hold. He could feel his quick breaths and he could feel hot tears soaking his shirt but still, he didn't focus on it. He toyed with Shiro's hair, attempting to soothe him, murmuring promises of safety and love, of caution, of protection. He shushed him on occasion, just attempting to be soothing.

He had younger siblings who experienced similar nightmares. Admittedly, it was easier to deal with a two-year-old's meltdown than it was to deal with that of a man over twenty years. Regardless, Lance had done this for every family member growing up so he was well prepared with what to do. He just held Shiro close, letting the man's head rest on his chest. He leant to his ear and spoke in a whisper as he held him.

"You're okay," he'd whisper. "You're safe. Nobody is here to harm you. Nobody will harm you. You're safe. We're safe. I'm here. I'll make sure you're safe." He continued like that until Shiro's breathing evened out, until tears no longer soaked his shirt, until he was no longer lingering or negative thoughts or panicking. He was focusing solely on calming Shiro down.

 

It was his main priority. The last thing he needed was for Shiro's meltdown to escalate and put either or them in danger. No- no, the last thing he needed was to be selfish and think of his own priorities when this man was sticking his neck out to save his life. The last thing he needed was to leave Shiro to cry and panic when he can help. When he'd not only capable of it, but willing to help. He cared about Shiro. He didn't want to have him in such a state.

And if he got into trouble for being in Shiro's room- hell, even if he got hit for it, he didn't care. As long as he had helped somehow.

In his current mindset, Shiro couldn't say he minded Lance being there at all. He, in all seriousness, might not have even recognized it was Lance he'd been clinging to. All he knew was that his fists had been curled about someone's shirt, and his head had been pressed into someone's chest, and that someone had been talking to him. Soft shushes and vows of safety managed to get through the rushing of blood in his ears, but Shiro didn't pay much attention to them either. He just held whoever had been there tight, feeling their warmth against his chill of terror, mindlessly sobbing into their shoulder.

"It wasn't me," Shiro would whimper between gasps, delirious. "I-I didn't do it. I swear! It was Lotor. You have to believe me. You have to tell them. It wasn't me. It was Lotor. It wasn't me." Lance continued to try to soothe him.

"Shiro, calm down," he spoke softly. "It's just us. You're not being accused of anything," he said as he lay back down, closing his eyes, allowing Shiro to sob and to cower regardless. He'd calm down in due time. Lance didn't even care about figuring out what had upset Shiro- he just wanted to help him. He just wanted to soothe him and let him fall asleep.

Shiro held whoever had been speaking to him a bit tighter. They reminded him of Adam. He could feel Adam in the touch against his head and his hair. In the sound of that voice and those words. In the warmth and the safety of that hold. It made Shiro's heart split clean in two... but somehow make his crazed system flush with a juxtaposing joy. Like nostalgia and grief mashed with relief and peace. It was an odd feeling -- all the more odd against the taste of his night terror.

But he didn't want whoever it was to go away.

"Don't go," Shiro whispered suddenly. "Please. Stay."

Lance held him closer. He shook his head. "I'm not leaving," he promised. "I'm not going to leave you. I'm right here, Shiro. I'm right here and I won't leave you." He continued to run his fingers through Shiro's hair, absently pressing a kiss to his forehead and keeping him held as close as possible. "I promise you. I won't go."

Shiro, like this, was the image of vulnerability. It made him as real as it did unreal. This crying mess, this sobbing figure curled up and pleading for Lance to stay, desperate not to lose him, he was the same man who had threatened his life and been assigned to kill him. This was the same man as had killed tens of others. This was a man as had endured hell and it tormented him everywhere he went, weighing down on his shoulders, slowly crushing him with each new thing he had to endure. This wasn't the same man as could stand dead still in a basement by a starbucks and threaten to cut off Lance's tongue if he spoke a word about him.

This was someone entirely different. Someone vulnerable and scared and so, so weak. So pathetic. Lance's insatiable curiosity urged him to ask about what had happened, what drove a man like Shiro to such a state, but he willed himself to keep quiet. He needed to focus on nothing but calming him down and appeasing him until he'd fallen asleep. If Lance was lucky, he'd be able to sneak off to his room while Shiro slept. If not, if Shiro fall asleep atop of him and the fear of disturbing him kept Lance in place, then... then he'd have to hope that he'd not be tortured in the morning for breaking one of the few rules he had been given.

It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. It could have been until the Sun collapsed in on itself and the world as they knew it broke in two. Forever, as it seemed, Shiro laid in Lance's arms, shamelessly crying and mumbling about Lotor or Adam or his arm or all the blood. Forever...

A forever with an end.

Shiro, having cried himself out all over Lance's shirt, drifted off into a thin sleep. He managed to make Lance promise he wouldn't go anywhere a few more times as he faded away into slumber. Even as he succumbed to his heavy, burning eyes, and tired, haggard mind, Shiro made sure he held onto Lance's hand. Maybe it was so he couldn't be dragged away into his subconscious terrors again. Maybe he'd just needed the touch. But when he did fall asleep, his fingers had been intertwined with Lance's, and his heart had felt a little better.

Lance had been trapped beneath Shiro. He didn't mind too much, but Shiro was much heavier than him and he could barely shift to get comfortable. He lay awake for around ten minutes after Shiro had dozed off, making sure that he was okay, watching for even a whimper that may have escaped him.

Upon finally being content with Shiro's wellbeing, realising that he was going to sleep without issue, Lance submitted to sleep.


	9. Shiro's Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the day that this is being posted (14th Dec, 2018), season eight of Voltron has been released and the show has ended, for context if anyone reads in the future. This story will continue to be worked on and updated, ideally to completion. This show has meant a lot to me and has helped me make a lot of friends. It's been an honour flying with Voltron.

Shiro woke up slowly the next morning.

And he woke up with a surprise.

His eyes stayed closed, but he had curled up more, turning his head into something warm and wrapping his legs up around something else cozily familiar he couldn't quite it his finger on. Shiro breathed in against fabric, and smiled. His hand tightened gently, feeling another between his fingers and against his palm. Soft, even puffs of air tickled against the nape of his neck. Sounds like snores that were not his own hummed into the air.

It all felt right, so he didn't question it. He didn't question the fact he'd been full on cuddling someone in his bed. Not a bit. He just gave a soft sigh of content, and tried to fall back to sleep.

But then Shiro's eyes snapped wide open.

Shiro picked his head up from Lance's chest and flicked his gaze upwards, seeing Lance's slumbering features in the morning light that poured from his window. Shiro pushed up a little more and casted his panicking stare across the bed, seeing Lance's body curled against his own -- their legs intertwined and their arms around each other. Shiro looked down at himself, back towards Lance, and then repeated the motion six or seven times.

"Fuck..." he whispered to himself.

It had taken Shiro a good moment or so to gather what had happened. His first horrified thought was they'd gotten drunk and had sex... it sure felt like he'd been hungover. But that's when he shook his head and told himself no. He'd remembered falling asleep the night before. Shiro remembered crawling into bed and hoping his best for sleep, Black curled up in her little cushion in the corner.

So then what could have happened that would prompt Lance to come into his bedroom and spend the night?

It was then Shiro felt the dim fright still left over in his system. The soft burning in his chest. The creeping chill of his skin. The trembly feeling of his hands. Shiro lifted a delicate hand to his face and patted his cheeks. They were puffy and sore. He rubbed at his eyes and found they'd been burning and crusted. He tried to swallow and found his throat raw and stopped up. Shiro took in a deep breath, held it a moment, and then let it go in a long, shaking sigh.

A nightmare.

The memories from the night before were misty. Like his dreams, Shiro always found his following panic to be blurred and distant in his mind. Like he was drunk... drunk on terror, he supposed. He remembered waking up, he remembered feeling terrified, and then he remembered a somebody whom he held onto throughout the episode. Shiro turned his gaze to Lance, and lifted a hand up to his head.

Lance was his somebody.

"Shit..." he whispered, not really knowing how to feel.

Lance was still asleep -- looking peaceful and content. Looking perfect there half in and half out of Shiro's bedsheets, dressed in pyjamas. He snored gently. His nose twitched in his sleep. His hand still held onto Shiro's.

And Shiro's hand still held onto his.

Delicately, as to not wake him, Shiro slid his fingers from Lance's, and slipped off of the bed. He stood with his hands on his rumbling temples, feeling queasy and worn out. Shiro's face was red and his system had begun to spin, revolving around itself in a confused sort of fashion.

What now?

What now? What now? What now?

Something rubbed against Shiro's leg. Black looked up at him, chirping her gentle chirps. Shiro leaned down, and picked her up, holding her a bit thoughtlessly to his chest.

"I could feed you," he said in a whisper. "That's what I can do. I can feed you."

So Shiro left to feed her. He left Lance in his bed, and made his way to the kitchen. Blue had been lying by his door, shut out on accident, Shiro had to guess. He figured he'd feed her too. That seemed rational. Maybe he'd take her out for a walk or something.

Anything to give him something to do before Lance would wake up.

Lance had woken up around ten or fifteen minutes after Shiro had left. His eyes had fluttered open and he'd let out a tired groan. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep and the hazy sunlight streaming through the blinds cast light onto his face that rocked him from sleep and brought him to stirr. He grumbled and rolled over, looking at the bedsheets and immediately realising that this wasn't the same bed as the one he'd been sleeping on this week.

He sat up- a little too quick, groaning- and glanced around. Shiro's room, right. The memories returned.

Nonetheless, he decided he would focus on something other than Shiro's nightmare and how vulnerable he had been afterwards. He was planning on just pushing the information to the back of his mind until Shiro decided to bring it up. If Shiro wanted to bring it up.

He slipped out of the bedsheets and stumbled tiredly to the door, pulling it open as quietly as possible. He rubbed his eyes as he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Shiro?" He called out as he began wandering back through the apartment, going to check the kitchen for him first. He'd have fed Black by now, so he wasn't too sure whether or not Shiro would still be in there. He wondered if Shiro had fed Blue, too. He was about to question Blue's whereabouts when a particular Husky ran at him, full speed, and took him off his feet by accident. Lance fell on his ass, grunting in pain, tiredly pushing Blue away from his face.

Shiro's bed had been comfier than his and he desperately wanted to return to Shiro's room in order to relax and perhaps catch a couple hours extra sleep. Ah, that'd be lucky of him.

Shiro heard Lance call his name, and responded with a wince to himself. He almost willed up the courage to respond before he heard a sort of thump sound out from the hall. Shiro's eyes went a little wide at Lance's grumble of pain, something he couldn't recognize sparkling in his chest. Shiro forgot about his embarrassment a moment, and made his way to the hall.

He saw Lance before Lance could see him. The man was on the floor, Blue prancing about him -- licking Lance's face and pawing at his hands. Shiro watched the scene a bit cautiously before he gathered up the dignity to speak.

"Are you okay?"

Shiro's voice a croaked and tired. Soft. He didn't like it... not one bit.

Lance's eyes flickered from Blue to Shiro. He finally pushed her onto her back and she wriggled, her tail thumping as he tiredly rubbed her belly. Nodding, Lance began pushing himself back to his feet.

"Y-Yeah," he murmured tiredly. "Sorry, she caught me off guard. Knocked me right over." He stretched his arms up over his head, grumbling a little. Blue was back on her feet by now. "How about you? You okay?"

"I'm fine," Shiro blurted, a bit too hastily for his liking. His face was glowing — he could feel the heat radiate from his cheeks and his forehead. He almost added a rash little 'why wouldn't I be?', but he held his tongue. Shiro wanted to avoid talking about the subject as long as he possibly could.

It was unavoidable, of course. The elephant in the room stood with an apparentness that made Shiro's skin crawl. He'd just postpone dealing with the problem until it was impossible to ignore. He continued on, branching off into random topics with stutters and scatters uhs and ums.

"I... I, uh, fed Blue already. So that's all taken care of. You don't need to make me breakfast either. I... I'm a little, um, nauseous... don't think I'll eat much today."

Lance could pick up on his current mood from a mile away. He took a step toward Shiro, smiling a little.

"Look," he said softly. "What happened last night- It happened. It's not an issue. If you want me to forget it, I'll forget it. I'm sorry I went into your room." He forced a small smile. "That's all. If you have any questions or want to discuss something else, feel free to. Please don't be anxious to ask about it. I mean- what's the worst I could do? I'm currently officially declared missing, presumably dead, and there's no way anyone could find me- much less anyone that I could snitch to."

He stretched a little again and sighed, beginning to go to the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want breakfast?"

Shiro stepped aside, letting Lance pass him. "Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered, a little dumbfounded. 

Sighing, Shiro rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing hard. "I... I guess all I have to say is that I'm..." He trailed off, getting lost in his embarrassment. Lance had turned around — their eyes were locked, the stare making Shiro squirm. He desperately willed himself from looking away, shoving the next few words through his gritted teeth. "I'm sorry. I... you shouldn't have seen that. I shouldn't have made you stay like that. Fuck, we barely know each other and I made you sleep with me. It was uncalled for. I'm sorry. That's it."

Lance let out a soft laugh, one of amusement as opposed to mockery. He began rummaging through Shiro's small array of various bland cereals.

"Mm, it's no issue. I've dealt with worse- I've told you about my siblings." He straightened up, holding a box of weetabix. "It isn't as embarrassing as you make it out to be, trust me. You're in a mafia, Shiro. If anyone's allowed to have the occasional nightmare, it's you. I chose to go into your room and I chose to lie down with you to help. You chose to accept my help and that meant that I had to stay." He took out his bowl and some milk, sitting at the table. "Trust me. It's not that big of a deal. It's not a big deal at all. If you want to just forget about it, though, I understand, but believe me when I say that I have dealt with worse."

And with that, Lance began eating, not seeming fazed by the events that had transpired the night before. He would just hope that Shiro saw it the same way he did- a coincidence followed by a series of deliberate choices. Nothing had been obligatory. After all, Lance had chosen to stay instead of escaping.

Lance's casual answer stunned Shiro. Lance's amused laughter almost hurt in a way Shiro couldn't quite place. Shiro flicked his eyes to the ground, and crossed his arms over his chest. His face was still flushed the vibrant color of posies, and his system still rang with hurt pride.

How he managed to overcomplicate the whole mess when it was him who hoped to keep everything normal was quite the resentful question as Shiro stood there, almost gloomy as the oblivious Lance sat and ate cereal.

Shiro shook his head, trying not to think about how he'd turned everything into a big deal. "Alright then," he muttered, barely managing to keep from sounding so cold. He quickly tried to come up with an excuse to leave the conversation, dragging his gaze across the apartment in hopes he'd get inspired. Only one thing came to his mind. "I'm going back to bed. If someone comes to the door, just go into your room. I'll either hear them or I won't."

With that, Shiro turned and left to his room. He closed and locked the door behind him, breathing a long, slow sigh as the soft click of the mechanisms.

His eyes trailed to the bed, clinging to the messed, ruffled sheets. Only a mere fifteen-twenty minutes ago, Lance had been in that bed, and Shiro had clung to him as though the young officer was the one thing tethering him to life. Shiro remembered the way Lance had hugged him into his chest -- he remembered the warmth and the coziness of Lance's touch. The odd familiarity of Lance's heartbeat and Lance's breath. Shiro held up his hand and looked at it, feeling the ghost of Lance's fingers and palm all across his skin. The touch had seemed so real, it felt as though he could close his hand, and really hold Lance's right then and right there. Only when he did, he felt nothing.

Because Lance wasn't there.

Shiro gave a groan, and lifted his prosthetic up to his head, massaging at his pounding temples. What was that? That feeling? What was that? It was recognizable, but unnamable. It tugged at his memory, but left him clueless. It was so familiar but so... so different it made his head spin.

What is that?

It was yearning, of course.

But Shiro would never admit that to himself. He'd rather force himself into a fabricated sense of uttermost confusion than admit he wanted Lance back in his bed. He'd rather dig himself so deep in his denial that he couldn't even recognize the fact he was denying anything than admit he was starting to feel something rather than obligated tolerance for Lance. He'd rather anything other than that.

Shiro, exasperated and exhausted, got into bed, and tried to fall asleep in his room.

Lance was oblivious to it all. Sure, he missed Shiro's company when the male wasn't by his side, but that was something that couldn't be helped with Shiro was his only company. He finished his cereal and took his sketchpad from his room, sitting on the couch. He settled back down in the seat and took a pencil, beginning to sketch. He was, of course, drawing Shiro again. He drew him in multiple ways- in the getup he wore at the warehouse, in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and he almost drew him shirtless before sketching on a tank top and being done with it.

Something about Shiro was just fun to draw. He was just unique. There were a lot of things about him that Lance enjoyed drawing and Shiro still held so much that Lance barely knew- his curiosity was latched onto Shiro. He stayed where he was as he sketched and did as he was told when he heard a knock on the door.

He settled down in bed in his room and continued to draw, even as Keith's loud voice called out "Shiro!" through the door. Lance assumed that he'd leave when Shiro didn't open the door. Lance assumed wrong.

Keith had his own key and pushed the door open after a minute or two. Lance shifted back to a small hiding space by the wardrobe and the vanity, where he'd been last time Keith had come over. He listened to the footsteps pacing around the apartment as Shiro was called for a few more times. Keith even opened the door to the spare room (making Lance's heart stop and his body go cold) to shout for him. When he'd realised that the bed was empty, though, he left. He was high so he paid no attention to the pencils on the bed. He left the door open slightly as he left, going to Shiro's bedroom. He shoved the door open and moved to the bed, beginning to nudge Shiro.

"Hey," he said loudly. "Hey, Shiro. Get up. Get up! It's fucking late for you to sleep. You never fucking sleep this late. Get up."

Shiro flinched awake, his eyes snapping open and his body seizing up in shock. It took him a few moments to come to his senses. He sat up, brow furrowed as he recognized Keith in his doorway. Shiro blinked a few times, as if he'd been trying to blink away a dream.

"What the fuck? Keith?" He said in a seething tone, realizing Keith wasn't just a vision to vanish. He lifted his hands to his head and rubbed at his eyes, groaning a little. "What the hell are you doing here? Learn to knock. Christ..." Keith rolled his eyes.

"I did knock, dumbass," he muttered as he got onto the bed, moving to straddle Shiro. "And I shouted for you, like, at least a hundred times. You didn't wake up." He puffed out his cheeks a little, looking down at Shiro. He didn't notice how sharp his tone had been or how Shiro very clearly didn't want him here. "You pushed me away last time I came over and now I'm sexually frustrated and fucking tired and I want to have sex."

Shiro felt chills run across his flesh at Keith's touch. It felt nice, as it always did... but it also felt a bit... odd. Different compared to his loneliness from earlier. He tried to disregard it.

"Oh," he said quietly in a soft little sigh. "Sorry... I, uh, had a rough night last night. I was tired and fuckin' passed out. Slept like a rock I guess."

"Yeah, no shit."

Inwardly, Shiro felt the discords of dilemma whenever he'd consider Keith's demand. Of course, sex sounded great. Sex with Keith right then and right there sounded sublime. It would clear his head and flush his negativity and distract him long enough to get his life back on track for at least the next few days. Shiro looked up at Keith, watching the way his hair fell down his face and across his cheeks. He looked a bit beautiful with the gentle lighting of the bedroom softening his face and giving a certain sparkle to his eyes. Keith's touch still held that same chill inducing power over him, rendering him seemingly helpless. He had to say yes. There was no choice. No other option.

There's Lance.

Shiro had to bite back his own grimace. All he settled with was a scrunching of his nose, and the gnawing of the inside of his cheek. Of course his mind gave him that. Of course his mind was on Lance. It was always Lance nowadays... Lance, Lance, Lance. The thought infuriated him. It made his gut churn and his head spin and his skin feel as though it was too tight for his bones. It made Shiro want to rip his hair from his scalp. It made Shiro want to strangle something. It made Shiro want to knock that whole fucking apartment complex down to it's foundations.

It made Shiro want to say yes even more.

Say yes to get Lance out of his mind. Say yes to remind him where his feelings lay. Say yes to finally fucking figure everything out.

"You really wanna have sex?" Shiro asked, his mind made up.

"Fucking course I do, Shiro," said Keith decisively, having already removed his hoodie and thrown it to the floor. "Do I ever come here for any other reason? Aside from getting high. Or seeing Black. Or- fuck it, you get what I mean."

Shiro moved his hand to the back of Keith's head and playfully grabbed at his hair. He pushed Keith forward so their foreheads touched. Keith's enthusiastic breath spilled over Shiro's face in hot wafts of air. It smelt like weed and Cheetos.

"Then let's go," Shiro said in a deep, rumbling tone. "Why don't I give you some of those stars we were talkin' bout?"

It went on for about two hours before Keith left. He'd simply tugged on his clothes (with his shirt backwards) and threw a small baggie of weed at Shiro as a thanks before leaving. The door clicked shut and then again to show that it was locked.

Lance was still in the guest bedroom, pressed into that small spot. The only difference between when Keith had arrived and now was that his ass was numb from sitting in the same space on the floor for two hours and that he was really, really regretting not having the balls to shut the door. He wasn't really looking forward to facing Shiro after this (not after hearing everything like that. He could have easily gone his whole life without hearing Shiro orgasm) and suddenly, being found and killed by the mafia didn't sound so bad.

He got up nonetheless, though, and decided to go to the kitchen to get himself something to drink and to try to de-numb his ass. He wandered through the living room, petting the top of Black's head, before going to the kitchen and getting a glass. He got some water and planned on escaping back to his room before Shiro left his own room. He planned on just avoiding conversation altogether until he was willing to face Shiro. What exactly was he supposed to say during conversation, anyway? 'You swear a lot when you have sex with someone' or some shit? That'd go down well. He might as well bang pots and pans together and shout 'You moan really loudly'. He pulled the hood of his jacket up and tugged the strings on it, the hood shrinking around his face and covering his eyes as if it would help him block out the thoughts.

He brought the glass to his lips and began drinking, the hood blocking his ears and his eyes so he'd not notice if Shiro came through unless he started speaking. It wasn't too smart of a choice.

Shiro couldn't quite tell how he felt.

He laid on his bed, sprawled out and spent, a mixture of left over euphoria and newly spurred confusion whirling about his system. It had been about ten minutes since Keith had left, and Shiro still felt a bit breathless. He felt as though he could lie upon his bed for the rest of the day -- sleep for the next two if he had to. There were plenty of reasons that could convince him to stay in bed. Shiro could list them all off in his head. He didn't want to get up. He didn't want to get dressed. He didn't want to clean himself or his bed of the mess. He didn't want to leave his room. He didn't want to face Lance.

Oh, he definitely didn't want to face Lance.

Lance was where the confusion came into the equation. Without Lance, Shiro was the picture of relief. The sex was great; in fact, he'd still been coming down from his high. His head was clear and his chest was warm. He could still feel the heat of Keith's touch and the tingle of his lips from when they had kissed. The love bites on his neck prickled. His muscles were sore. The scratches on his back stung. Everything was perfect. It was all amazingly perfect until he'd let his mind drift to Lance.

What did Lance hear? Shiro prayed it wasn't too much as he thought back to everything he had said in his euphoric daze. Did Lance know? Well of course he did. Keith had left the door open. Did Lance care? Jesus, wasn't that the question of the day...

Shiro felt guilty, but he also felt at peace. He also felt embarrassed, but at the same time he felt proud. He felt stupid, but he also felt smart. All his emotions clashed like garish colors in his system, flashing and sparkling and messing up his mind.

Shiro lifted a hand to his head and rubbed at his temple, sighing gently. Lance was back in his head. Even in his daze of his elation, Lance was back and tormenting him. It made him want to scream.

Tired of just lying there and wondering if he had been going out of his mind, Shiro pushed himself up from his bed, and started to get dressed. He pulled on clean boxers and sweatpants. He felt too hot still for a hoodie, so he just pulled on some random muscle-tee. It was a thin, white tank top that sported both his scars and the dark black v he had tattooed on the back of his neck. He figured he'd go eat something before he'd shower -- hell, he felt hungry enough after those two hours with Keith.

Shiro slipped from his room, on keen look-out for Lance. He almost swore aloud when he spotted Lance at the counter, drinking his own cup of water. It was too late to retreat back to his room -- his footsteps had creaked the floorboards, and he had shut his door louder than he should have -- so he just continued on forwards, trying to ignore the way Lance stared at him (having pulled down his hood) as he opened up the fridge.

Shiro pulled out a can of premade cookie dough he knew wasn't there the day before (damn Keith...), and a spoon. He leaned against the corner and ate away, trying to think of something to say. After awhile of the most intolerable of silences, Shiro decided to gather his losses and just rip the bandage from the wound.

"Sorry we were loud," he mumbled bluntly. "Sorry I let it happen... not that I have to apologize. It's my apartment. Anyways, I don't know what to tell you, man. I was fuckin' stressed out and he wanted sex. What else could I have done?" Lance just looked up at him and seemed to turn red as he was addressed, nodding and quickly looking away to put his glass down.

"Your apartment," he simply said. "You can do what you want." He left the kitchen without further comment, leaving a half-empty glass of water. He'd planned on being a little smoother, perhaps more rehearsed. He hadn't planned on barely being able to look Shiro in the eye!

He began to retreat to his room, whistling for Blue who jumped up from the sofa and began trotting alongside him. Somehow, Keith hadn't noticed her lying there. Fucking idiot. Lance got into his room and Blue jumped up on the bed, curling up as Lance sat beside her, sketchpad in hand.

He was going to have to talk to Shiro at some point. He couldn't just avoid him- he literally had no choice in the matter. He'd just begin thinking about what he would have for dinner. That'd be a nice change as long as he could eat in his room instead of at the small kitchen table with Shiro.

He didn't know why he was so off about it. It just seemed weird, being in the house of a mafia drug lord and then suddenly having to hear the nicknames he gave Keith while they made the bed rock. He was just going to keep quiet about it for as long as he could and hope that he doesn't accidentally and impulsively ask something he shouldn't.

So, Shiro concluded, as he leaned there on the counter, alone in the kitchen. He's freaked.

Why wouldn't he be? If the places had been switched, Shiro could say he would have been easily mortified. Oh, he could say that with confidence. If the roles had been reversed, Shiro wondered if he'd ever be able to look Lance in the eyes.

Regret bloomed in Shiro's system. That was how Lance felt, wasn't it? Lance would never be able to look at him the same. Just as Shiro began to think Lance's presence in his apartment wasn't as bad as it seemed, he had to ruin it with Keith and his damn stars. Shiro put a hand up to his head and sighed. It seemed like he'd been doing that a lot lately — lifting his hand to his pounding head.

Shiro finished his cookie dough. He left the empty container and the dirty spoon on the counter as he sauntered off to the bathroom. He showered quick, dressed himself in the same attire, and then gathered his sheets for the wash. The line at the washer machines downstairs was short and easy — he tossed his sheets and his comforter in the washer machine and hurried back upstairs, not liking the stares of his neighbors. Back in his apartment, nothing to do, Shiro plopped down on the sofa.

He could have watched TV... but then he'd need to get up and change the channels manually. He could have eaten some more... but the cookie dough was already settling a bit oddly in his stomach. He could get high... but he didn't quite want to... he already felt a bit off. He could have taken a nap...

Yeah. He could do that again.

Shiro promptly fell asleep on the couch, drifting into a dreamless slumber.


	10. Another Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are increasing to twice a week due to the fact that we have 34 chapters currently drafted. When we've finished writing out the story, updates will return to once a week.

After a few hours, Lance left his room to begin tidying. He threw out the cookie dough and cleaned up the bathroom after Shiro’s shower. He then came to the kitchen and began cooking chicken, smiling slightly as he cooked. He turned the radio on, too. Shiro would wake up to the smell of Lance’s cooking, spices and herbs and cooked vegetables and chicken. Preparing it and cooking it would take around an hour and a half, so Shiro would hopefully have woken up by then. Lance didn’t particularly want to go to his room. 

He couldn’t help being freaked about it. It was only natural to be a little disgusted hearing anyone have sex, much less someone who could (and probably would) kill him if he only got a valid reason to do so. Thankfully, the loud music distracted him from the thoughts of sex and he was able to focus solely on the music as he cooked. He danced slightly, swaying his hips to the rhythm and humming and occasionally shimmying somewhat. He just enjoyed the music and the cooking. The familiar smell of the food reminded him of home. Blue sitting on his feet reminded him of cooking in his apartment. And when he closed his eyes and swayed it felt like he’d never left.

He could imagine being in the small kitchen of his shitty one-bedroom one-bathroom apartment or he could imagine being back home and cooking dinner while his dad picked up the kids from school. It was just perfect to imagine. No mafia shit, he could pretend he’d never gotten a job as a cop and that he was a marine biologist or a scuba diver or anything. That was the beauty of imagination- it let him forget about all of the shit he was going through and instead he got a nice break from it all by thinking of being back home.

A small smile stayed on his lips.

It felt perfect. It felt right.

It didn’t feel like he had a wanted criminal sleeping on a nearby couch and it didn’t feel like he was hiding from a mafia, proclaimed missing and presumed dead.

What a life he could have lived if he’d never become a cop.

 

The music had woken up Shiro as soon as Lance had clicked it on, but he pretended like it hadn’t. Instead he laid there, his eyes delicately closed and his ears listening to the humming mumbles from Lance as he quietly sang along to the buzzing radio. Soon he smelt dinner — exotic spices and the delectable scent of cooking meat settled itself about the quaint little apartment. Shiro had to guess it was chicken from both the scent and Lance’s promise from the other night. 

Shiro wondered if Lance would come wake him up to eat. He wondered what Lance would do. Tap his shoulder? Shake his arm? Poke his nose? Would Lance be afraid to wake him, cautious of another nightmare? Would Lance care enough to even try and get Shiro up in the first place? He wondered on. 

Why such questions rose about in his mind, Shiro didn't know. They were dumb… of course they were. Hell, if Shiro had been worrying about it so much, he should have just leaned up and turned on the television to show Lance he’d already been awake. But… he didn't quite want to. He liked the easing of the ever present tension. He liked the feeling of casualness against the awkward fug from earlier. Shiro could feel Lance’s comfort radiating from the kitchen -- he could hear it in Lance’s singing tone and his springy step. Shiro couldn’t tell why but he liked that. He liked that Lance was comfortable, even if the source of Lance’s comfort was the fact Shiro wasn’t there to disturb it. 

Shiro gave a soft sigh beneath the sound of the speakers. He thought with scornful humor that if Lance really did care about him, he would have a least turned the radio down a bit to let him sleep some more. Shiro didn't say anything though. Rather, he stayed sprawled against his small sofa in his faked state of rest, waiting for the beep of the oven. Wondering, wondering, wondering what he’d do next. 

 

When the timer on the oven finally went on and Lance had made sure everything was cooked properly, the time came for him to wake up Shiro. He turned the oven down so that it could keep the food warm before turning and heading to the couch.  
“Hey, Shiro,” he said softly as he approached, settling his hand on Shiro’s shoulder and nudging him ever so slightly. “Wake up, I’ve just finished making dinner.” He smiled patiently as he waited for a response, brushing his fingers along Shiro’s arm (his prosthetic) as he pulled it back. He’d not focused on that as much as he’d wanted to- Shiro had a full prosthetic arm. It made his curiosity spike and he desperately wanted to know why or how it worked or anything but he knew better than to ask. It’d probably go down as well as the ‘why not just leave?’ question did.

Still assuming Shiro was asleep, he mindlessly let his fingers run along the prosthetic again. He’d successfully distracted himself from the sex for at least another five or so minutes, which gave him plenty of time to marvel over Shiro’s arm.

Shiro didn’t feel Lance's hand on his arm, but he heard it. He heard the soft whisper of nails as they trailed up the cool metal of his prosthetic, the sound making him freeze. He tried to not tense up too much — Lance had obviously still believed Shiro was asleep — but he couldn’t help the sharp chill of shivers creeping down the flesh of his back. He kept his eyes closed, almost feeling like he was succumbing to panic as he thought of what to do. Anyone who’d even dare to think about touching his arm like that would earn a swift death. It was a given. No one touched his prosthetic without his permission. Even Keith knew better. 

So why was he letting Lance?

Why?

After a few moments of dilemma, Shiro figured he should have “woken up.” He gave a theatrical sigh, and a stretch. Shiro felt Lance’s hand pull away quickly, the officer uttering a soft gasp as he backed off. Shiro leaned up and rubbed his eyes, pretending to stifle a yawn. When he fluttered his eyes open Lance had been standing beside the couch, his hands behind his back and his face a little flushed. Shiro pushed up off of the couch and sat up. An unconscious hand went to his prosthetic, tracing all the places Lance might have touched. 

“Dinner?” He grumbled tiredly. 

Lance smiled a little. “Just needs plating,” he said with a fond smile. “Come on, come sit in the kitchen and I’ll go get dinner.” He ran his hands through his hair and then left, starting through to the kitchen to begin dishing up. He didn’t bring up that he thought Shiro’s arm was cool- he didn’t mention anything else. He was now going to focus on food and then he’d probably go to his room. That would be it if he was lucky. He didn’t want to spend too much time around Shiro if he could help it.

He was still enamoured by the prosthetic. It seemed so fascinating. So cool. He couldn’t help but geek out a little at it. Sure, he didn’t understand them like Pidge did and he was hardly educated enough on technology whether or not it worked exactly like a normal arm would. He’d likely not get away with asking, though.

Shiro stood, stretched again — for real that time — and followed Lance to the table. He sat down in his seat with a sigh, watching Lance gather the dishes and the utensils. Shiro stayed in his state of dazed pondering as Lance made him a plate, and placed it down on the table in front of him. Why? Why would Lance care enough to do all of that for him? It confused him. Made his brow furrow and his stomach churn. Shiro looked down to his hands, running a thumb across his prosthetic knuckles. 

Why was everything so complicated all of a sudden?

Shiro took a bite of his food to try and distract his mind. Lance had already sat in his spot across from him, a whopping five bites into his plate. Shiro watched him with cautious fleeting glances. There was a question in his eyes — Shiro could tell. It sparkled and it glimmered in the blue sea of Lance’s iris. Shiro wondered what it was. Shiro wondered if he had his own questions a twinkle in his eyes. 

Wondered, wondered, wondered. It was that kind of day, wasn’t it?

“It’s good,” Shiro mumbled weakly. He had to bite back an additional ‘like it always is’, clenching his jaw to hold his words in his mouth. 

Lance glanced up at him. “Thank you!” He said happily, his heart fluttering a little at the compliment. He was weak for praise. It made him feel so happy. He wanted to ask about the arm- just a little thing or two, like what it was made of or how it worked, but he kept quiet. He just focused on stuffing his mouth with his food. He wiped his mouth after a moment. “When will you next be able to walk Blue?” He asked, smiling. “She’ll get a little restless if she isn’t walked soon but I don’t want you to rush.”

He didn’t seem to be thinking as much as Shiro was. Not at all. He was just doing what he usually did for people close to him. He served food like this to family all the time and at this point, as unpredictable as he was, Shiro did feel like family. Though that was probably because Lance had spent so much time around him and nobody else that it was forcing some kind of bond and some intimacy that there wouldn’t have been otherwise.

“Oh shit,” Shiro said, eyes widening a bit. “I forgot I was gonna do that.” He started to stand, but then stopped himself. His eyes trailed down to his still steaming platter. “… I guess I’ll go when I finish eating.” Lance smiled.

“Alright,” he said as he continued to eat dinner. “Have you got any requests for what to eat tomorrow? I’m out of ideas so we can have whatever you want.” He had already finished eating and was washing up his plate, setting it aside to dry. “I’ll get Blue’s leash on her. Is there anything you want me to do while you’re out? I’d offer to wash your bedding but I’m aware I’m not allowed into your room so… anything else?”

Shiro put a hand up to his head. “Oh shit!” he repeated, this time a bit louder. “My fuckin’ sheets are in the wash downstairs. I forgot all about that too.” 

Desperately, Shiro looked down at his plate. “I… I’ll get them when I walk the fuckin’ dog I guess,” he mumbled tiredly, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. He scooped up another bite. “Anyways, dinner is up to you, man. I have to go shopping soon anyways. Just tell me what you want to cook and I’ll buy it I guess.” Lance nodded a little.  
“Alright,” he murmured as he brushed his hands off on himself. “I suppose I can do that.” He began out of the kitchen to go to his room, seeing that Shiro was getting irritable. He didn’t want to be too close if he got pissed off. He didn’t like the thought of being the only person to take Shiro’s anger.

Instead, he planned on writing up a meal planner and a shopping list from that. Then he’d kill time doing whatever the fuck else while he waited for Shiro to return.

 

Shiro stood, scraped the hefty remains of his plate into the trash (Lance had said something about not giving chicken to the dog…), and went hunting for Blue’s leash. He found it where he had left it after his outing to Taco Bell: tossed aside beside the sofa. Shiro scooped it up, called for Blue, and clipped it on her collar. She was restless and excited, licking at Shiro’s hands and running swift circles about his legs — entrapping him with her leash. He untangled his legs, and made his way to the door. 

Halfway through, he thought about calling a goodbye to Lance. He decided against it. Lance would probably hear him go anyways. 

Shiro left his apartment and went on a short walk. He hadn’t bothered with his hat or his glasses. In fact, he’d would have forgotten about his shoes if they hadn’t been sitting by the door. Shiro walked a few blocks before he stopped to rest on a relatively quiet corner. He leaned against the building, and flipped out his cigarette pack. Shiro lit one, and took a few drags, being sure to blow the smoke away from Blue. She’d been sitting by his feet, looking up at him with a natural smile upon her muzzle. 

“What’s your deal, hm?” Shiro asked quietly after his last drag. “Why are you so happy? Your whole fuckin’ life got turned upside down.”

Blue didn’t answer. 

Shiro gave a sigh and began to head back. He stopped at the laundry room of his apartment building to stuff his wet bedding into the dryer. He stood and watched the machine clunk about for a few moments. Shiro wondered if he could have stayed there for the full hour. 

It wasn’t as if Lance would miss him. 

Sighing, Shiro turned and tugged Blue out to the lobby. He made his way to the elevator, waving to the desk person with an uninterested flick of his prosthetic. Shiro caught sight of the closing doors, and rushed forward, a shouted hold it! leaving his lips. He stuck his hand in between the elevator doors just before they would close, scowling as they opened back up again. 

“Gee, thanks for the hel-” Shiro started cooly to the man inside, his words falling short when his eyes settled on the strangers face. 

Shiro’s blood went cold.

“Oh! Shiro,” Sendak said, a slick smile curling up on his cheeks. “I was just going up to see you. You haven’t been answering my texts. Is… is that a dog?”

Shiro was speechless. His voice had left him, leaving his mouth agape, opening and closing stupidly as he grasped for something to say. His skin had gone pale, and his eyes had gone wide — glazed with spurring terror. Shiro moved forward slowly, his steps gentle and tentative as he made his way next to Sendak. The doors closed before them. 

“My phone is dead,” Shiro managed to croak. “I haven’t been able to charge it. And yeah. It’s Lance’s — that officer. I couldn’t… I couldn’t kill it.” 

Sendak snorted. The elevator dinged — one floor up. “Whatever. Well, what else have you been doing? I haven’t seen you since Haxus.” 

“Keith came over.” Shiro’s mouth was incredibly dry. 

“Oh, so that’s who you’ve been doing.” Sendak gave a sharp, barking laugh at that, as if it had been the funniest thing he’d ever uttered. 

Another ding. One more, and they’d be on Shiro’s floor. 

Shiro swallowed, trying to find at least some moisture for his tongue. “What are you doing here? Why show up?” 

“We’ve got a job and you weren’t answering,” Sendak answered simply, shrugging. “Figured I’d come over and check to see if you were alive, and then we’d go out and get our shit done. Maybe get a few drinks afterwards.” 

“Oh,” Shiro muttered. “Alright.” 

“What’s up with you?” Sendak asked, narrowing his eyes. The final ding arrived, and the doors slid open. The two continued out into the hall, one stiff and the other suspicious. 

Shiro gave a soft sigh and rose his shoulders. “I had a rough night last night, that’s it,” he mumbled. 

“Rough as in a night with Keith or rough as in nightmare?” Sendak asked with a slick smile as they strolled up to the door. 

Shiro gave a forced snort. “Nightmare,” he muttered as he unlocked his door. It swung open slowly, Shiro’s heart seizing as he looked out for Lance. “Well, Sendak, why don’t you just make yourself at home, huh?” His last sentence was louder and booming. He hoped Lance would hear.

Lance. Lance, please. Don’t screw up. 

 

And Lance had been in the kitchen. The freezer was open and half of the drawers were taken out. He’d been checking to see what Shiro and and didn’t have available for them to eat. 

Hearing Shiro’s voice and that he wasn’t alone, he tensed, paled, seizing up. Fear gripped him for a moment as he glanced around, needing to find somewhere to go. Blue was sniffing around and tugging at the leash, wanting to be let go so that she could pester Lance or irritate Black. Lance glanced around a little.

He considered entering the freezer and then thought of the possibilities of how that could go wrong. First, Shiro could attempt to put something back into the freezer and catch him. Second, Sendak could stay for hours. He quietly shut the freezer, Blue’s impatient yap covering up the sound of the door closing with perfect timing. He grit his teeth a little.

Soon, he opened the door to a cupboard. It was full of animal supplies, piles and piles of expensive cat food tins and spare kitty litter. At the front, Blue’s cheap dog biscuits. Lance managed to shift some aside enough to get into the cupboard. It was incredibly small and cramped and he only barely managed to pull the doors so they were only slightly ajar. He had somehow found some way of lying down that meant he’d be covered up enough to not be immediately noticeable. Hopefully the dog food would also provide a reason why Blue would begin barking while sniffing the cupboard.

Cans dug uncomfortably into his back as he lay on them, his body contorted into an awkward position. He didn’t have enough room to move- provided that he didn’t move back out the way that he had come in- and his nose was almost pressed against the top shelf of the cupboard. He had his arms trapped by his sides, forearms pressed against the shelf he was hiding under.

His legs were curled up too, but pressed against the shelf uncomfortably. It was beginning to set in how small this space was and how likely it was that he could be caught here. Sealed away in a cupboard full of cat litter and animal food- it wasn’t how he wanted to die. He didn’t want to die like this. He didn’t want to die at all, as much as he considered it.

God, he was thinking to himself as he trembled, panicking, tears welling up in his eyes at the thought that it could all end for him, right here. All it took was one wrong move or one knocked can of Blue yapping a little too much. God, he thought. I really don’t want to die.

And yet, upon being let off of the leash, Blue began sniffing for him. She paced around a little and then entered the kitchen. Lance could hear her sniffing as she walked around. 

“Blue,” Shiro called sharply, shutting the door behind him. Sendak had gone into the living room without sparing a glance at the tidy kitchen, looking for the remote. Blue had been busy snuffling around the kitchen, her nose leading her to the cabinet where Lance kept her treats. Nervously, Shiro stepped over to her and grabbed her collar, tugging her back towards the hall. 

“I’m going to put her in the guest room,” Shiro muttered, earning a uninterested nod from Sendak. 

Shiro opened the door to the guest room, his fingers crossed and his chest swirling with an apprehensive hoping. He felt his heart sink at the absence of Lance. Where the fuck was he? His pulse slamming in his temples, Shiro shut Blue in the guest room, and stepped back out into the living room. His eyes trailed over everything, in search of something out of place. Keith might have been too high to notice the obvious presence of another person living in his apartment, but Sendak certainly wasn't. Shiro tried to suppress the trembling of his hands. 

“So, spit it out,” Shiro muttered. “What are we doing tonight.” 

Sendak, giving up his search for the remote, plopped down onto the couch. “The leader of a police task force nicknamed the Blades. His name is Kolivan. Turns out he’s planting moles in our gangs. We’ve been told to take care of him. Bloody and painful, just how you like it.” 

“Just how I like it,” Shiro echoed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 

Lance listened in and bit his tongue. He’d heard of Kolivan at the precinct but had never met him personally. It was strange to hear about this stuff without doing so for a case or without knowing whether or not he’d survive after hearing it. God knows. He was just glad that Blue wasn’t still sniffing around and threatening his life.

He continued to listen in, shifting slightly on occasion as he tried to keep at least some level of comfort. So far, he had had no luck. He was going to have bruises on his back for days after this. As long as he wasn’t being taken out in a bodybag, he had no reason to dwell on it. He was just going to hope that he could survive this. In all honesty, he didn’t want much else.

Sure, it’d be nice to have been in his room for this or to be with Blue or to have at least a smidge of comfort but who was he to complain when his life was on the line? He wasn’t selfish enough to throw it all away because his back hurt.

About thirty minutes passed while Shiro and Sendak sat and planned their job. With the absence of Lance, Shiro felt his nerves finally begin to settle in his system. He still kept his eyes flicking from wall to wall — from closet to cabinet to drawer — just wondering where the officer had stashed himself.

He let Sendak do most of the talking, offering soft nods and a quiet ‘sounds good’ every now and again. Sendak’s plan was fairly similar to Shiro’s from a few nights ago (God, was it only a few nights ago?). Break in through the fire escape, kill him nice and easy in his sleep, and discard the body. They’d make Kolivan nothing but a run away cop, fed up with the stress of his job. Then they’d go get wasted at some bar, and spend the rest of the night vandalizing things and causing a ruckus. 

Sendak stood up, stretched, and then jutted his thumb towards the door. “I’m going to the car. Get dressed,” he said. “Don’t take fuckin’ forever.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms, though his system was whirling in relief behind his annoyed disposition. “Alright. Whatever,” he said. Shiro lifted his hand and shooed Sendak away with the flick of his fingers. “Go on then. I’ll be down in a bit.” 

Sendak gave a huff of a gravely, evil sort of laughter before turning away. He left, the door closing with a hefty click. With that click, Shiro almost felt as though he collapsed into the floor with his release of tension. His whole body slumped, and his hands reached up to his pounding head. Shiro gave a groan, which, oddly, descended into hysterical giggles. The relief seemed so powerful in his chest and his stomach, the only thing he could do to express it was laugh. Shiro leaned back up, laughing heartily, despite the feeling of terror tears still behind his eyes. 

“Lance!” He called between chuckles. “Where are you?” 

“I- Uhh-!” Lance tried to reply, projecting his voice. “I managed to get in a cupboard but- but I’m a bit stuck!” He shouted, having heard th door click and trusting that to mean that Sendak was no longer nearby, was no longer an imminent threat.

He pushed a few cans away as he reached out to open the cupboard door, watching it swing open and now he was just awkwardly trapped. “Uhh- Can- Can I get a little help? I don’t remember how I got in here,” he said, trying to straighten out his legs but not being able to with how low the shelf was. He was just about stuck. “I could push everything out and get out while you get dressed but- but I don’t want to make a mess! What should I do?”

“The fucking cabinet?” Shiro laughed. “You’ve been in the the god damn cabinet this whole time? Jesus.” 

Shiro, still laughing, moved forward towards the awkwardly placed officer. He crouched, pushed all the cans out on the floor, making the mess Lance had been worrying about. Shiro grabbed Lance’s hand, and helped him wiggle free from his wooden, cat food canned prison. Lance began stretching out as he stood, starting to say something in a groaning sort of tone, but Shiro didn’t let him finish. 

He must have been high on his relief. Shiro, still giggling, launched forward and pulled Lance into a hug. He held Lance tight, not quite realizing just how idiotic he’d been acting. The sudden closeness was a surprise enough before throwing Shiro’s laughing, giddy relief into the mixture. Lance tensed instinctively, listening to Shiro ramble like a madman.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I was so worried,” he laughed. “I thought we were done for. I thought we were screwed, man. Shit! We were so screwed…” 

Shiro then recognized how Lance had tensed up beneath his hug. He then, with a quick bloom of embarrassment, realized what he had been doing. Shiro pulled back quick, cleaning his throat and straightening out his shirt. 

“I-sorry. Sorry, I was… I was just relieved…” 

Lance looked up at him and smiled, wrapping his arms around him in a tight but quick hug, pulling away a second later to begin fixing the few cans that had been knocked over or had fallen out of the cupboard. Then he fixed the freezer, not bothering to continue listing and instead just shoving the drawers back in and shutting the door.  
“You have a job?” He questioned, glancing up at him. “And, uhh, I think you should get ready for it. S-Sendak? Sendak doesn’t seem like a very… forgiving… or patient person,” he mumbled, standing anxiously in front of Shiro.

The hug had been nice. He’d been right with his earlier assumptions- Shiro was the perfect size for a hug. And his arms were so firm as they held him against his (also firm) chest. Had he been able to hug back in the short time he had had, he was sure that the hug would have been even better. In all honesty, he kinda wanted another hug. 

Taking Shiro as the kind of person who wouldn’t appreciate that, though, he refrained. Instead, he just waited for Shiro’s input on what to do before he would end up going back to his room. Not that he expected that Shiro would recommend anything different- he’d probably have to spend the whole damn evening in Shiro’s room.

And overhearing the idea that they would have ‘a few drinks’- Lance was just going to hope that Shiro wasn’t going to be totally wasted. Or that if he was, he’d at least have the decency to go straight to his room to pass out.

In fact, he was just hoping to avoid all and any confrontation with Shiro if he was drunk.

Or entirely- he would have just murdered someone.

He hadn’t quite decided yet.

Shiro nodded, running his hands down his shirt again in a nervous tick. “I- yeah. I need to change,” he said dazedly, making his way to his room without another word. 

Shiro dressed himself quickly. It was all in all black clothing: a pair of black jeans, a tighter black shirt, and high climbing black boots. He left his room and went to the linen closet for a bandana and some gloves. Everything stashed in his pockets, Shiro made his way out into main living area of the apartment, running a checklist through his mind. He turned to look at Lance in the kitchen. 

“I’ll be a few hours. You might want to be asleep by the time I get back. I… I don’t want you to see…” Shiro paused realizing what he’d been saying. He backtracked. “I don’t think you want to see all that blood. Even after I get drinks, I’m sure it’ll still be bad. Just… hang out I guess. Don’t wait up on me.” 

Lance nodded. He’d seen worse, he was telling himself, but he knew that he’d not want to do so either. After all, he wasn’t sure if he could stomach seeing Shiro covered in blood and hearing him have very loud sex within twenty four hours.

With that, and a quick nod, Shiro made his way to the door. Just as his hand brushed against the door knob, however, he paused. Guilt bloomed throughout his body in an ugly burst of feeling. Shiro drew his hand away from the door, and rubbed the back of his neck, the hesitation heavy in his system. 

“Do… do you know who Kolivan is? Have you met him?” Shiro asked weakly after a moment or so of silence. He knew Lance’s answer could make him feel worse but… Shiro didn’t care. He deserved it. He deserved to feel worse. Lance hesitated.

“Heard of him,” he mumbled. “His task force is really highly admired.” I know the names of every single person in that task force. “So they’re really well known around the precinct. I never saw his face, though. A picture or two but never saw him in person. Never spoke to him, never got the chance.” He looked at the ground and kicked the floor a little. “All I know about him and his task force is what Allura would tell me after meetings and she always had something against them so it’s not like I know anything personally but- but…” he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I didn’t really expect to ever meet him.” No, I just hoped I would.

Lance grit his teeth a little. He kept quiet. It was just a job, same as his was but… opposite. He did what he had to do despite connections or friends the criminals had. Lance did what he had to do for his job, to get paid, to make the city safe. Shiro did what he had to do for his job, to get paid, to keep himself safe. 

Shiro, not feeling any different, gave a short nod, and left. He made his quick, silent way through the lobby and into the parking lot. He caught sight of an old black car, it’s paint chipping and its motor gurgling with age, and made his hesitant way over to it. Shiro opened the door, received a nod from Sendak at the wheel, and slipped into his seat. The door clapped to a close. 

There were a few moments of long silence. Shiro watched Sendak from his peripheral, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Sendak had his prosthetic on the wheel, and his other hand on the shift. He looked to be waiting for something, his emotionless stare focused on the windshield before him. 

After a few moments of intolerable silence, Sendak spoke. 

“I know,” he said simply. Sendak turned to look at Shiro, a dark smile upon his face, and a deep glimmer in his eyes. 

The car seemed to lose its air. 

On instinct, Shiro uttered a swift “what?” 

“Don’t play dumb, Shiro,” Sendak chuckled slickly, using Shiro’s real name against him. “I know exactly what’s going on.” 

Shiro shook his head, panic simply thrumming throughout his system. “I don’t know what you’re-”

Sendak held up a hand, stopping Shiro short. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Zarkon,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

Shiro’s brow furrowed. The surprise misted over his terror, messing with his common sense. “You won’t?” He asked in a disbelieved murmur. 

The large man snorted, pulling the shift into reverse. The car rolled backwards. “Not after what he did to your last boyfriend,” Sendak sighed, shrugging. “I don’t think I could stand another ‘boo hoo my boyfriend is dead’ phase. I’d rather his new guy stay alive.”

The mention of Adam stung, but Shiro had to disregard it, the confusion suddenly overtaking everything else he could have been feeling. “I- what?” He questioned, his tone utterly flabbergasted. “New guy?”

“Oh come on. You’re a terrible liar,” Sendak said. They pulled from the apartment parking lot, and merged out onto the road. “Your apartment is fucking sparkling. It smells like actual food. Not to mention you’re glowing like you used to when Adam was around. All that talk about Keith was just cover. Admit it, you’ve got a new boyfriend.” 

Shiro opened his mouth to fervently refuse Sendak’s claims. Glowing? Shiro wasn’t glowing of any sort. However, just as the first sound began to pass his lips, Shiro stopped himself. Sendak knew something was up — but he didn’t know just how up things had been. If Sendak wanted to believe Shiro was hooking up with some guy, then Sendak could believe it. Even if his accusations made Shiro’s stomach turn all the wrong ways. 

“I… fuck. You got me,” Shiro muttered, a huff of laughter in his words. “Yeah. I met him in Starbucks a few weeks ago.” 

“What’s his name?” Sendak hummed, a sarcastic interest plaguing his tone. 

“Leonardo,” Shiro blurted. 

“Like Da Vinci?”

“Yeah… and the ninja turtle,” Shiro said, gambling for words. 

Sendak nodded. They had stopped at a red light. “Does he know?”

“Nope.” Shiro said this with his faked confidence. “He thinks I just work late.” 

“Well that’s good.” 

The conversation went on from there. The talk of the fictitious Leonardo trailed off into talk of their job, the gory details getting all the more chill influencing as the sun sank behind the skyline. It was near dark when they pulled up those few blocks from Kolivan’s apartment, the sky a deep purple, dotted with dimmed sky. They waited for the last remnants of day to succumb to night, sitting in their grumbling car, the conversation lacking and quiet. 

It seemed as though they had waited forever, that murder kit sitting neatly in the back seat.


	11. Drinks And A Hangover

Lance was in the living room. He'd passed out at some point and was now contently napping on the couch with Blue lying between his legs, her head and paws on his stomach. Black was curled up by his feet.

He had finished noting everything in the freezer and tidied the apartment again before settling down. The television was droning on in the background and he'd dozed off at some point. He must have been more exhausted than he'd realised. He'd not been able to get much sleep lately (sleeping in Shiro's room had been the best nights rest he'd gotten since being moved here) so it was a godsend to have an entirely empty apartment.

No Shiro.

No threats.

No surprise visitors.

Plenty of time to sleep. He lay with his head on the arm of the couch and his body contorted awkwardly. One arm was above his head, the other on Blue's neck. One leg was stuck straight out and over the other arm of the sofa while the other leg was hanging off of the edge. If he tried to put it back on the sofa, Black would swipe at his leg.

Regardless, he was content, lulled off into a peaceful and dreamless sleep. Nothing felt better than this.

It wouldn't last long, though, as Shiro returned at around one in the morning with too much alcohol in his system. The door opening had cut through the quiet and interrupted Lance's sleep but the loud slam as Shiro entered made him jolt and wake up immediately. After he'd dealt with his 'where am I' panic, he decided to focus on the main issue. Takashi.

"Shiro?" he called tiredly. "That you?" It fucking better be. If it was anyone else, Lance was dead.

Shiro was hammered.

The job itself had gone okay. Kolivan had put up quite the fight — he had left Shiro with a black eye, and a bruise up the side of his ribs. It had been two against one, however, and the element of surprise had been enough from the start. Kolivan went down, and he had ended up in the bottom of the ocean with a few bags of his belongings, all weighed down by rocks.

Bloody and bruised, Sendak and Shiro decided to swing by Sendak's place rather than the bar. They drank and the drank and they drank. Shiro was sure he had thrown up at least twice in the cab he had taken, and he vaguely remembered tossing the driver one of the fat wad of fifties he'd gotten from the job for the vomit. He stumbled his way into the elevator, through the hallway, and up to his door. It took him about ten tries to get his key in the lock, and another five to successfully turn it. Shiro pushed the door open, and slammed it behind him, hearing Lance's call from the couch.

"Laaaance!" Shiro drawled loudly. He made his clumsy way forward, only making it as far as the kitchen table before he slumped down into one of the chairs. "Look at me... I've got fuckin' blood -hic!- on my hands..." Shiro held up his busted knuckles, showing off his own injuries as well as the blood from Kolivan crusted into his skin and in his fingernails. "Wild, man..."

Shiro blinked a little and shook his head. He gestured himself. "Lance, am I glowing? Whatever the fuck that means..." Lance looked up at him. He stood and approached Shiro, yawning and stretching.

"Come on," he said softly as he took Shiro's hand in his own, leading him to the kitchen. "Sit down. I'll... I'll patch you up."

He dug out the first aid kit and set it on the table beside Shiro. He took ahold of the man's hand and used a disinfected wet wipe to clear away the blood. Kolivan's blood.

He shuddered, gritting his teeth a little, but continued. He soon had Shiro's busted knuckles wrapped up nice and neat before turning his attention to Shiro's face.

"Oh, what did he do?" he asked softly, deciding to push away the thought of who hit Shiro and instead focusing on how to fix it. He wrapped up some ice in a cloth and pressed it to Shiro's swollen eye. "Hold that there," he ordered softly, kneeling down to look up at Shiro.

He didn't know what to say. Shiro wouldn't remember any of this, if he was lucky. He hoped he wouldn't. He didn't want Shiro to remember if he asked something stupid or upset him somehow. He just didn't want Shiro to know that he cared and he asked too much sometimes.

He could only hope that Shiro would sober up soon. Or that he would find some way to alleviate the tension in the room. He hated how tense and awkward it was.

Shiro, in quite the turn of events, was oblivious to the awkwardness. He was quiet while Lance patched up his injuries, hissing or flinching in pain every time Lance would press just a bit too hard against a bruise. Every now and again he'd say something without thinking — things he'd forget the moment they'd roll from his tongue. Lance either disregarded them, or just couldn't find an answer because Shiro's blurted statements never did get a response. Shiro pulled for Lance's attention and conversation time and time again, but it would always go unnoticed.

"Sendak thinks I have a boyfriend," Shiro said in a final attempt. "He says I'm glowing. I... you -hic- know what I said- I said his name was Leo... Leonardo. That's what I said." Lance looked up at him. He seemed a little shocked.

"You told him you had a boyfriend?" he asked, something Shiro had said was finally getting some attention from Lance. He knew how to respond to this and it wasn't anything absurd. "Why? Why would you do that?" He asked, standing. He'd finished patching Shiro up by now so he pulled Shiro to his feet (with quite the struggle) before beginning to take him to the living room where he could sit down and relax.

Lance settled down beside him. "Why would you tell him that?"

"He was catching on, duh," Shiro said, rolling his eyes. "He knew my place was cleaner and all that fuckin' stuff. He said I look like I did when I had- hic!- Adam. What else was I supposed to say? I mean, you are basically like a boyfriend. You slept in my fuckinnn... bed last night..."

Shiro settled down into the couch shimmying his shoulders into the backrest of the sofa. He gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes, laying his head back. "I didn't thank you for that by the way..." he murmured, slurring his words. "That helped me... hic... a lot..."

And as if Lance hadn't gone red enough from the 'basically a boyfriend' shit, Shiro thanking him made him turn even redder. He glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I- Uhh- It- It's okay," he said softly, biting his tongue a little. He had no idea what he was supposed to say. He moved to sit a little closer to him, smiling a little. He shifted slightly so that Shiro's head was on his lap, running his fingers through his soft hair. "It's okay," he repeated again, a little more decisive this time.

A few moments passed as he held Shiro on his lap like that. "You're awful sweet, Shiro, I- I don't know what exactly to say." He mumbled. He was glad that he wasn't dealing with sober Shiro. He was easier to tolerate when he was drunk. "Who... Who is Adam, though?" He asked after a longer while, smiling delicately as he twirled the white tuft of hair around his fingers with one hand, the other running through his black hair and brushing his undercut. It was so relaxing to have Shiro like this, where he wouldn't be temperamental or difficult to talk to.

"He was my fiancé," Shiro said sleepily, drunkenly liking the way Lance played with his hair. "I was so in love with that fuckin' man. He's gone, though. He died four... four years ago. I think it's been four years..."

Words left him like vomit. He couldn't stop the spill of thoughts. Even the efforts of sober Shiro, tucked away in the lower-most of his conscious, couldn't do anything to stop him. Shiro just let everything pour out from his system.

"Fuckin' Lotor," he muttered, his tone darkening. "If I ever get... get my hands on him, all the power hic! in heaven and Earth won't be able to protect that fucker from me."

Shiro looked up at Lance. "Do you know Lotor? He's Zarkon's son. He was a mole — gave info to cops," he said slowly. "Shared some serious shit a while ago. Zarkon found out someone squealed but he didn't know who." Shiro gave a sigh. "Who else to blame but some high ranked newbie who was trying everything he could to get out of the mafia?"

Finally, Shiro stopped talking. Lance was silent as he looked at him. His fingers had stopped coaxing through his hair but resumed immediately after he had realised that he'd stopped. He was frowning.

"So you... you lost him," he said softly. "Zarkon killed him?" He asked, his voice dropping so quiet that it was barely above a whisper. He felt so bad for Shiro- he hadn't known. Not that he could be blamed for not knowing, but it still didn't help. He still felt horrible for what Shiro had been through. "That's- God, Shiro, that's..." he trailed off, unable to find his words.

He continued running his fingers through Shiro's hair soothingly. He needed to occupy himself with doing something and this was it. He fell silent entirely now. Would Shiro be angry at him for waiting until he was drunk to ask questions? It wasn't intentional, but he knew that this was something Shiro would have taken to his grave if he was only sober enough to hold his tongue.

"Zarkon killed him, and then tortured me. Lotor admitted what he did through a fuckin' letter or something, but it was too late." Shiro sounded angry, his voice dark and bordering tearful. He could feel his eyes getting hotter. His breath getting shorter. But the alcohol forced the rest out of him.

"'Here Shiro, have a new arm.' 'Here Shiro, have a new status.' 'Here Shiro, have a better pay.' 'Sorry we fucking ruined your whole God damn life.'"

Shiro sniffled and brought a hand to his face, wiping at his eyes. "And now I'm stuck with them. Too fuckin' scared to. And that's that..."

Lance was silent. It felt like an eternity of tense air before he spoke again.

"That's shit," he mumbled. "I-I'm so sorry. That's horrible." His voice was quiet and shaky. "Do... Do you still want to talk to me?" He asked after another few anxious moments. He didn't want to stay around if Shiro didn't want him around. "Because if not, I can go. I can take you to your room and set up stuff for your hangover in the morning and then I'll just- just go to bed in my own room."

He shrugged slightly, running his fingers through Shiro's hair slowly. "Whatever you'd prefer. Whatever's best for you."

Shiro sighed slowly, trying to ease out the trembling of his breath. He closed his eyes, and leaned into Lance's touch, kicking his shoes off into the floor. "I kinda just wanna sleep," he grumbled, the drunken slur from before replacing his sudden flare of emotion. Shiro cuddled up closer to Lance. "Jus'... Just keep doin' that thing to my hair..."

After a moment or so of silence, Shiro had to let one thought go from his mind before he would drift off into sleep.

"I'm sorry I killed Kolivan."

With that barely incomprehensible slur, Shiro fell swiftly into slumber upon Lance's lap, drunk snores and dreaming mutters loud against the quiet of the apartment. Lance didn't respond.

Instead, he turned off the television and played with Shiro's hair until he ended up asleep. Blue had been kicked off the sofa with Shiro taking her place so she curled up on the floor around Black, who let out soft purrs.

He woke up first the next morning, which wouldn't have been an issue provided that he wasn't currently trapped underneath Shiro. He was hungry and still tired and he really needed to pee. The only thing that he could do to help himself in this position was wake Shiro up and he wasn't sure if he wanted to embrace hungover Shiro just yet. He'd not even been able to grab a bucket like he'd planned on doing last night. A bucket and a bottle of water and some painkillers. Then he'd leave Shiro to lie on the couch and recover.

Deciding just to get on with it, he gently nudged Shiro's shoulder. "Shiro," he called quietly. "Shiro, wake up. It's half past eleven, wake up." He hoped Shiro wouldn't be too irritable. He was hoping for quite a lot of things right now and, in all honesty, none of them seemed likely to happen. He wasn't lucky enough for that.

Shiro woke up with a soft start at Lance's touch, and then proceeded to groan out of both pain from his head and distaste for waking up. He scrunched his eyes tight, and shook his head. "Go away, Lance," he grumbled, his words garbled with sleep. "I don't have nothing to do..."

It was then Shiro realized he hadn't been in his bed. Rather, he felt the warmth of another body beneath him. He felt his arms curled around a waist, and his head resting on a comfortable thigh. Alarms, much like alarms from the previous morning, blared off in his mind. Shiro promptly unlatched his cuddling arms, and pushed up from Lance's lap, tense and surprised.

"I- dammit! Again?" He cried, his own volume making his head spin with bright pinwheels of pain. Shiro groaned again, bringing his hands up to his skull. Sitting up, he could feel he nausea misting thickly throughout his system. He could have almost gagged, his eyes screwed up tight and his teeth clenched in an attempt to keep from vomiting.

He didn't remember much from the night before. Shiro remembered getting home and... and what happened then? He strained his flaming brain, and brought his hands down from his face to look at them. They'd been wrapped up in bandages, dirty with blood. Shiro felt the throbbing of his bruises and the tickle of more bandages all about his face and torso. So, Lance patched him up... but after that... it was all just a blur. Maybe a hint of a distant emotion here and there, but Shiro couldn't even wonder about what had happened.

Shiro didn't quite know if he wanted to anyways.

"Buck... bucket..." Shiro said weakly, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Could you grab one?"

Lance was already wriggling out and off of the couch. His legs were numb from Shiro having been lying on his thighs but he nonetheless pushed himself to his feet and stumbled to the kitchen.

He returned minutes later with a bucket and set it in front of Shiro, then disappearing to get him water and painkillers, keeping ahold of them while Shiro vomited so that he could be there to assist him when he had recovered.

He shifted awkwardly. Shiro didn't seem angry at him or overly uncomfortable so surely that meant that the alcohol had done its job and stolen away his memories of the previous night? God, he hoped so. He didn't particularly want Shiro remembering opening up to him about Adam. Or he did? He wasn't sure. He didn't want Shiro to be annoyed at Lance for asking or at himself for saying it but he didn't want to slip up anytime in the near future and have Shiro pissed off at him for knowing about Adam when he shouldn't.

Shiro, with his last trace of dignity, threw up while Lance was off in the kitchen getting water. He threw up until his stomach was empty and pained with strain, and then pushed the bucket away, groaning. When he looked up, Lance had been there with a cup of water and a bottle of pills. Shiro graciously took them, offering a ginger thanks while he uncapped the painkillers. He took three, took a tentative gulp of his water, and then slumped back against the couch, trembling a little. God, he felt like he had a fever.

"What... what did I do last night?" He asked after a while of silence. Shiro had overcome his urge to dry heave, and only dealt with the swarming pain of his migraine, the bad taste in his mouth, and the churning of his aching stomach. "I don't remember anything after you patched me up. Did I say something stupid? I probably did. I get..." Shiro trailed off, groping for the right words. "Unnecessarily emotional when I'm drunk. It's... awful."

Shiro paused, looking down. "You know what... don't tell me. I- shit, no you have to tell me-" His words were stumbled with indecision. "Was it bad? At least tell me if it was bad."

"You told me about Leonardo," he said with a smile. "About Sendak questioning it. You, uhh," he turned a little red, "Said I was basically a boyfriend." He was debating mentioning Adam. It was best just to tell him, right? Right. Sure. Yep. Here goes. "You told me about-" he hesitated and faltered. "Your last boyfriend. What happened. And about Lotor." It was done now, he couldn't take it back.

Figuring it was better to add something else atop of that so it wasn't such a big deal, Lance spoke again. "And then you apologised for killing Kolivan and passed out. I even offered to take you to your room so you could sleep somewhere more comfortable but you didn't let me. You didn't do anything too embarrassing."

Shiro went dead silent, his eyes going wide and his mouth parting just slightly agape. After a while of trying to find something to say, all he could manage was a breathless "that's what you call not embarrassing?"

Sighing, Shiro hung his head. Jesus. Jesus Christ, he was such an idiot. He almost felt a little panicked with all of that embarrassment and guilt flooding throughout his body. He rubbed at his temples, biting back another groan. Everything Lance had said made Shiro feel as though he could die on the spot.

"That's... I... God damnit. I don't even know how to respond to that," he muttered. "I'm sorry for everything, I guess. Jesus." Lance shrugged.

"I've heard worse, Shiro. I've got siblings, and nothing is worse than having to hear their most embarrassing moments announced loudly over the dinner table." He smiled a little. "Go get showered while I make breakfast. You've still got blood on you and you're all icky from being hungover. I'll make something plain- like toast or something." he smiled softly, keeping his eyes on Shiro. Thankfully he hadn't reacted too much to the news of confessing about Adam.

Lance would live another day.

After turning the shower on in the bathroom, Lance moved to the kitchen and turned the radio on quietly. He'd decided to make scrambled eggs with toast. He'd just get ready to cook it for now. When Shiro turned the shower off, he'd begin cooking. In the meantime, he'd just run through what had happened the night before.

Shiro took a considerably long shower. He let the hot water patter down against his tense, sweaty muscles, drumming away at the crusted blood and stinging his cuts and his bruises. He washed his oily hair, and he washed his oily face — trying to wash that gross, toxic feeling from him. The alcoholic sweat that plagued his sticky skin was watered away, and while it was watered away, Shiro thought. He thought and he worried and he wondered, though he worried the most.

He worried about what Lance thought. Did Lance think he was weak? Did Lance worry about his baggage? What would Lance think of Adam? Did he wonder, perhaps, if Shiro hadn't been strong enough to protect Adam—the man he loved— how could he possibly be strong enough to protect Lance? Lance, Lance, Lance. Adam, Adam, Adam. The thoughts ran rampant.

Shiro turned off the shower, that tangled string of worry still tight in his stomach. He dressed in a grey muscle tee, still feeling hot with hangover, and a pair of black joggers. He grabbed his glasses and his personal phone, and then left out towards the living room. He scooped up his glass of water and drank, hoping to drown away his headache. That was supposed to help, wasn't it?

Lance had been in the kitchen, cooking, by what it seemed. Shiro watched from the corners of his eyes, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He made sure to look away whenever Lance would shoot him a glance, but then he'd look right back.

Lance, Lance, Lance.

Lance set out two plates of scrambled eggs and toast. He put a cup of water by Shiro's plate and a cup of orange juice by his own. He settled down in his seat.

"Come on, have something to eat. That might give you back a little strength and help you feel better," encouraged Lance as he picked up his fork, beginning to dig in, expecting Shiro to sit down without argument or comment and do the same. He didn't see any reason for conversation until Shiro had eaten, at the least

He wanted to make sure that the male looked after himself, even if he didn't seem to want to. He cared about Shiro more than he had expected that he would. He enjoyed his company more than expected. Hell, he just liked Shiro more than he'd ever thought that he would.

The destructive tendencies Shiro had- smoking, drinking, having meaningless sex with a coworker- Lance wanted to at least try to help him get better than that. Sure, the sex thing wasn't his business (in all fairness, nor were any of the others) but he hated the idea that Shiro was willingly doing such harmful things. They'd break his mind and ruin his life and Lance didn't like that he did any of them.

He didn't really expect to be able to better him while he was here, but he was doing his best to provide support, at least. If that was all he could do, then he was happy with that being all he could do. At least he was doing something.

Slowly, Shiro pushed himself up from the couch, and sauntered his way to the kitchen table. He sat, picked up his toast, and took a nervous bite. His stomach grumbled, but he swallowed it down. Shiro forced another bite, wondered if he should have buttered his toast, and then decided it was better he didn't. He hadn't even started thinking about his eggs — they'd need ketchup to be at least a little edible in his picky opinion, but Shiro didn't know if he could stomach that.

"Whoever that Kolivan guy was, he was a fighter. That's for sure," Shiro said after awhile, trying to start conversation. He lifted a hand to prod at his black eye. "I've got this, some scratches on my arm, and an ugly ass bruise on my ribs. He got me good. Whatever. I deserved it I guess." Lance nodded absently.

 

"He was highly ranked. If it had just been one of you, you would have died," he said with a small shrug. "Or been apprehended. But there were two, so he was the one to fall." He took a large bite of his toast to give him an excuse not to keep talking.

He was just trying to cope with the idea that Kolivan was dead. Dead and would never be seen again. Presumed missing, as Lance currently was. He didn't know how many people would die like this, or how many he had been searching for that would die like this. It was an overwhelming thought so, for the meantime, he'd push it back. Ignore it. Like he was currently doing with just about everything else that had happened recently.

Shiro leaned back in his chair, giving a soft huff of laughter. "Imagine if I did die. You'd be screwed. Jesus, you'd be so fuckin' screwed," he said, almost hazily as the thought about it. "Maybe you'd find my cash and get lucky or something, but you still wouldn't be able to cover your trail. He'd find you in a few months without me. I'm the only person in the world who'd know how to hide your ass from Zarkon."

Pausing, Shiro thought about it some more. "I guess if I died, everyone would be screwed," he muttered. "Zarkon would find you and know I went against him. He'd probably kill everyone I talk to just outta spite. Keith, my barista guy, maybe even Sendak. My parents too if he could find them." Shiro blew out a long breath, realizing how dark he'd made the atmosphere. "Good thing I'm not going anywhere. Not yet at least." Lance smiled meekly.

"Yeah, you'd better not," he said after a moment or so. "You're not putting me in that situation."

He stood, taking his plate and washing it up before leaving it on the drying rack. "Are you done eating?" He asked shortly, glancing back at Shiro. "And is there anything that needs to be done today? Or am I just going to find something to clean while you insist that everything's tidy?" He approached Shiro to take his plate, smiling slightly to himself. He wasn't sure what he was planning on doing today. Not that he had much choice. As sick as he was of staying inside and doing nothing, he didn't have any choice. Not unless he wanted to go outside and get killed and kill Shiro.

Feeling a little cooped up was a small price to pay, he guessed.

Shiro let Lance take his plate, chewing on his bottom lip. "Well, I need to go shopping. My sheets are still the dryer downstairs. Blue probably needs a walk," he listed in a sort of pout. "Nothing you can do, I guess. Busy day for me though..."

He lifted a hand to rub at his eyes. He didn't want to go anywhere — in fact, Shiro didn't even want to stand up. Groaning for what had to have been the fifth time that morning, Shiro stood. He made his slow way into the kitchen, and opened the fridge.

"You wrote that list, right?" Shiro asked, looking the considerably empty shelves up and down. Lance glanced back at him as he wiped down the kitchen table.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. That's everything that we have in the fridge and freezer. I've been meaning to go through the rest of the cupboards but I don't know the rest of the books," he explained as he approached the other. Blue trotted through and jumped up, onto Shiro. Both paws settled on his thighs and he sniffled, able to smell the toast on his hands. Lance sighed a little and moved to the cupboards, beginning to prepare food for both Blue and Black.

Shiro gave a soft nod, and closed the fridge. He look down towards his shoes by the door, and gave a long sigh. God, how he wished he didn't have to go out. Shiro wished he could just curl up in his bedroom with his bucket and his painkillers and laze away his painful hangover. If it had just been him alone in his apartment, he would have done just that. But he had Lance, and Lance needed something to eat. Lance probably wasn't used to not eating for a full day — Shiro could tell that from Lance's ravenous appetite. With nothing but some cold leftovers and packs of 60 cent ramen, Shiro was sure Lance would suffer.

"Is there anything you want me to buy?" Shiro asked tiredly. Lance kept his eyes on Shiro and shook his head.

"Nothing other than the shopping list I prepared," he said as he held out a piece of paper. Double-sided. He'd thought through everything. He'd even gotten a meal plan prepared for the next fortnight pinned to the fridge. He leant against the wall. "That should be everything that's necessary for the next two weeks, so you can pick up anything else you find interesting. B-But feel free to change anything you don't like! The meal plan is still flexible so don't worry," he quickly added, still smiling.

He turned back to the sink and began washing Shiro's plate, planning on washing up and tidying the rest of the apartment again. He had no idea how Shiro let everything get so messy so quickly.

He moved to his bedroom, taking a packet of painkillers and filling a water bottle, adding ice to it. He held it out for Shiro. "I want this to be empty by the time you get back- keeping hydrated will clear your head clear and you'll feel better eventually, understood?" Setting the plate beside his own on the drying rack. "So you'll take the dog out and then go shopping... how long do you expect to be gone?"

"I don't know," Shio said truthfully, taking the bottle and the pills from Lance. He'd been looking over Lance's double sided list with a look of nervous interest. "This is a lot of food... Are you sure you're going to use all of this?" He turned his gaze to the other list on the fridge, narrowing his eyes and running through Lance's defined meal plans. "Huh... I guess you are..." Lance laughed softly.  
"Yeah, I was actually quite sparing with the list."

Shaking his head, Shiro turned and began to search for Blue's leash. He had left it on the counter after the Sendak fiasco, but it wasn't there -- the counter was bare and neat. "Did you put Blue's leash somewhere? Like when you were cleaning or something?" Lance frowned.

"Have you lost her leash?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest, his voice sharp and pointing the blame at Shiro. "You should be glad I have a spare, but that's not fair." He turned to go to his room, rummaging through a drawer and taking out the second leash. He simply held it out for Shiro. "Don't lose this one. It's the only spare I have and you're buying a new leash if this one goes missing."

Shiro gave an exasperated scoff, taking the leash from Lance's hand in a snappy sort of motion. "I didn't lose anything," he muttered, snapping his fingers for Blue. He had stuffed his pills and Lance's list in one pocket of his joggers, and his water bottle in the other. "I put it on the counter. I figured 'clean freak Lance' would have done something with it." Shiro added the last bit with a slick grin, and an equally oily tone. He leaned over and clipped Blue's collar on.

"I'm just not a slob, thanks very much."

"I'll walk her for a bit, come upstairs to drop her off, and then I'll go to the store. It's not in walking distance -- I'll either cab or Uber. Not in the mood for the Subway." Lance just nodded along as Blue came trotting over, barking happily up at the two. Lance knelt down to pet her and got an attack of kisses, smiling as he pet her and told her she was going for a walk. She barked happier, her tail wagging, as she ran over to Shiro. She jumped up at him, paws on his thighs as she barked. Her mouth was open and her tongue hung out of her mouth.

Lance sighed softly. "Look after yourself," he mumbled. "Look after yourself or I'll die. I'll reorganise the cupboards and everything. Is there any way I can contact you if I think of anything else we'll need?"

Shiro thought a moment. "I've got two phones. One for work and one for personal. Zarkon can see all the texts I get and send from my work phone, but he can't see messages from other apps," he explained, walking towards his room.

"One sec," he muttered, popping into his room to grab his work phone. He came out, offered Lance his personal, and pocketed his work. "You know the password. Go onto Groupme and just shoot me a message if you think of anything. My work phone contact is Kuro. Don't message me unless it's a real thing, alright? And don't go looking at my fuckin' search history or something dumb like that. It's probably all just porn anyways."

Shiro wrapped the new leash around his wrist. This new one was red, a deep red with black designs that somehow reminded Shiro of Keith. Shiro offered Lance a wave, turned on his heel, and left out the door, Blue happy on his heels. He walked her for about ten minutes, brought her back upstairs, and let her back into his apartment without a word to Lance inside. He then, with a sigh and a sip of his still very full water bottle, went on his way.


	12. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-- A little break from the current story to celebrate Christmas!! Updates will be returning to once a week on Fridays but I was really happy with this one shot and hope you guys enjoy it, even as a little break in the storyline.

Lance stood in the kitchen.

The lazy warmth of the room came from a heater that Lance had dug out from a cupboard by his bedroom- one that Shiro didn’t dare enter. Lance had a slight rousing suspicion that Shiro refused to enter because of the spiders that had turned it into a cosy home, but he never admitted to it. For now, Lance just let Shiro insist he had no fear of spiders and just had ‘no reason to go into the cupboard’. Lance had the heater hooked up in the kitchen, put onto a high setting and filling the room with a cosy warmth that fogged up the windows.

The radio played repetitive, upbeat christmas songs for Lance to sway his hips to. Christmas, for him, had always been a family-oriented period and it was difficult to bite back any emotion or homesickness that swirled in his stomach. Shiro was out, so he was distracting himself in the same manner as usual. He was washing the dishes, reorganising. He’d even convinced Shiro to let him put up some fairy lights, so organising those had taken a short while. Shiro had gone out on business for now, though, so Lance was just left at home with nothing to do but wash dishes and continue to prepare the christmas dinner he’d begged Shiro to get the ingredients for.

The music, the calm atmosphere, the cosiness of the warm room and the sweater he was wearing (plain grey but it was as festive as Shiro got) made him feel content. He was almost able to ignore the homesickness. He didn’t even care about the lacking presents or the makeshift decorations he had up. He only missed his family and the food

Blue was sitting eagerly by his feet, letting out her quiet little whines as Lance finished his preparations for the turkey and slid it into the oven. He’d grown accustomed to her whining and desperate pleading for food, so it wasn’t too hard to ignore. A few moments later, though, he had produced a bag of dog treats and submitted to her begging eyes and starved whimpers. He got her to sit down and shake his hand before giving her the first treat. Then he got her to lie down, roll over, and play dead before feeding her a second. He then gave her plenty of scratches behind her ear and kissed the top of her head, washing off his hands and moving to the living room. The food would need quite some time to cook and so, in the meantime, he took the comfiest fluffy blanket he could have ever found (it had been buried in the same cupboard as the heater) and settled on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate.

The lights in the apartment were dim, leaving a golden glow on Lance’s features from the scattered fairy lights as he focused his attention on the book. He was pressed into the corner, the christmas music still playing happily from the kitchen, though quiet enough to not steal away his attention. Blue leapt onto the couch and plomped down beside Lance. Her weight settled on his cold feet, the little warm touch bringing a smile to his lips. This was cosy. This was so pleasant. Even with all of the insane shit going on in his life, he was happy to get these sweet moments of tension-free living and simple relaxation. Sure, it would be nice if he had Shiro sitting in the other corner of the sofa- even if only to stare at his phone or scoff at the christmas decorations- but Shiro was out on business.

 

The job was simple. An easy little conversation with a higher up boss of a smaller mafia gang about using the Galran Mafia as their new drug supply. The meeting place was an abandoned old church a little ways from the big city, the structure made from old, frozen up wood that groaned and moaned as the icy wind blew about its knicks and crannies. The furniture was splintered, the flooring was broken and cracked and creaked dangerously when stepped upon. Whenever the wind would howl too hard, the structure would shudder, and Shiro would feel himself tense up with the slight fear of being eaten alive by the old church and its pained moaning. 

Not to mention… the idea of it being a church didn't make the setting feel any better. 

Shiro was never religious. He didn't really believe in… well in anything. His parents beliefs, even if those beliefs were usually more on the lowkey side of anything, were always conservative in nature. They valued Shintoism but to a very low extent -- Shiro didn't know if they really believed in any of those gods or kami, but he did know they had shrines and he did know they believed in some sorts of evil spirits. They never pushed any of it on him though. They never celebrated anything. They never even took him on their journeys back to Japan so he could even see some of the major shrines or partake in any of those festivals he used to listen to them talk about on the seldom occasion they were feeling nostalgic. It’s why Shiro never knew much about it at all… of course he could have taken it upon himself to study it or even collect enough money to visit his island of heritage… but he never found it any sort of important. 

His lack of interest made him feel guilty though. Places of religion always seemed to spur up the feeling in his system. It was why his usual suave and collected nature in conversing with that gang was a little lax. Sendak had done most of the talking, while Shiro only pitched in to convey his statistics and hard facts. When Sendak had asked him about it on the way back to the city, Shiro just muttered something about it being cold. Sendak laughed at him, and just told him he needed to lighten up. 

It was Christmas Eve, after all. 

Shiro had forgotten all about Christmas until Sendak had rattled out that little chuckle. He sat up, threw him a glance, and asked him to drop him off somewhere a good walk away from his apartment building. Sendak had protested -- ‘it’s snowing outside Shiro, you’re gonna get sick!’ -- but ended up setting Shiro off in some shopping district about a fifteen minute speed walk from Shiro’s apartment. Shiro waved Sendak away, noting his skeptical frown, and continued down the sidewalk to keep to himself and his thoughts. Sendak’s car motored off into the distance.

Why he wanted to be alone at the idea of Christmas, he didn't know. It was cold without Sendak’s warmed seats and Sendak’s roaring heater -- Shiro could already feel his nose reddening as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He just… he felt the urge spring about his system like wildfire. Shiro just wanted to be alone. The streets were mostly empty… which was odd but comforting. Maybe the occasional last minute Christmas shopper would dart past him with a bag or two looped over their arms, but other than that, it seemed like most were all with their families at home. Shiro checked the time on his wrist watch -- it was nearly nine o’clock. He hoped Lance wouldn’t be waiting up on him.

Lance had cooked something, hadn’t he? He remembered Lance had begged and begged for something special -- just like he begged for those fucking lights and to keep his fucking Christmas music blaring from Shiro’s radio. Shiro remembered lugging home all of that expensive food for Lance to cook… he definitely remembered the sparkle in Lance’s eyes when he had offered him the turkey. 

He certainly remembered the hug Lance had given him in thanks. 

Shiro gave a huff to himself, smoke rising from his lips in a fantastic puff of white vapor as he shook his head. It was incredibly cold… Shiro almost wanted to take a break. He dragged his eyes along the shops he stepped past, noting their familiarity as he moved. His eyes caught upon a family owned jewelry shop that looked particularly cozy and warm -- and particularly open due to the time and the holiday of that night. Shiro took the opportunity and slipped in. 

The woman at the counter recognized him -- Shiro bought most his glittery rings and watches from her -- and wished him a Merry Christmas. He just nodded and said hi, before moving to just gaze about some of her new watches in an attempt to keep himself busy while he warmed his hands with the rooms blessed heat. He could feel the bitter freeze of his nose and his ears slip away as he took his slow steps around the display cases, the chill melting from his as comfort took over. 

“Shopping for someone special, Shiro?” the woman asked. She’d been shining a diamond, the glittery thing set up beneath a sort of microscope as she shined and polished its surface with a delicate looking cloth. “You’re a little late, hun.” 

Shiro laughed a little, reaching a hand up to the back of his neck. “Not shopping. Just getting away from the cold.”

“Well then get out,” she joked, offering her own little laugh. “No stowaways. You want warmth, buy something.” 

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, moving his way over to the necklaces, all glittering beneath the warm light of the display case. He dragged his gaze around a bit boredly, just liking the sparkle, before something caught his attention. It was a long necklace with a silver sterling chain, the jewel it was clasped to a deep, lavish sort of blue. The thing twinkled and sparkled the brightest out of the bunch, simple pulling for Shiro’s suddenly enraptured attention. He peered down at it. 

That sparkle reminded him of something... 

“What is this?” he asked the woman, pointing to it. “It’s pretty.” 

The woman craned her neck to see. She smiled. “A blue diamond,” she said, matter-o-factly. “Oval cut. Rare. Expensive. Blue diamonds enhance inner strength to the wearer… almost protects them. Gives them balance and clarity… Why? Are you looking to buy it? I’ll let you try it on.” 

Shiro leaned towards the glass, cocking his head. “How can some dumb rock protect someone?” he asked… but his voice was interested. Hazy with thought. 

“It’s just what some people believe, dear,” she hummed. “Things like that helps people feel better. Gives them something to put their faith in.” There was a silence as she watched him, her joking tone settling with her next quiet little sigh. “If you really want it, Shiro, I’ll give you a discount. A Christmas gift from me to you. But you should try it on first… I don’t know if it would properly match your eyes.” 

He shook his head, leaning up a little. “It wouldn’t match my eyes,” he murmured, everything finally clicking in his head. He turned around, patting his back pocket for his wallet. “How much is that discount?” 

The smells of christmas food had filled the apartment.   
‘I’ll be back by nine’, he could vaguely recall hearing Shiro mutter before leaving. ‘Or about then. Shouldn’t be too much later.’  
Lance sent another anxious glance to the clock. Nine fifteen- Shiro was late. Oh, how typical. The potatoes were going to burn if Shiro took any longer. He gathered up the cups, bringing them to the dining room and filling them with whiskey. It was one of the bottle’s he’d found buried in the back of Shiro’s cupboard, collecting dust, so he figured that there was no harm in using it. Not when there were several identical bottles surrounding it. He needed to do something. He didn’t like the uneasiness settling in the pit of his stomach.

Shiro was late every day. He didn’t have any kind of a schedule as far as things went but if anyone could guess how long it would take to complete a job, it would be someone who had already completed the same job several times before. It would be someone like Shiro. And yeah, he didn’t want to complain about it, but if Shiro said he would be back at nine latest, that usually meant that he would be back before nine in the evening. If he could have gotten Shiro a gift for christmas, he would have gotten him a dictionary.

The scent of food had filled the air, with their spices and seasoning leaving a pleasantly lingering aroma of home-cooked food. He’d set out their plates, organised the table, and moved the radio from the kitchen to the dining room for some fitting background noise. Now, he was sitting in his chair, an empty plate in front of him. Drumming his fingernails on the table until Blue began to bark. She could pick up on Shiro’s smell from halfway down the hall and so, surely enough, Lance could hear the keys jingling from the hallway just seconds later.

He stood from his seat and moved to the kitchen, pushing back his irritation in order to plaster a warm smile onto his lips. He couldn’t get annoyed at Shiro for doing a job, so instead he was just going to act as if Shiro had caught him just while he was dishing up. He took the food from the oven and began to pile food onto each plate. As he put on the perfectly-cooked potatoes, he could hear the door open and close. Shiro didn’t usually say anything as he entered- but Blue’s excited yapping and dashing back and forth down the hallway reassured Lance that it was him.  
“Welcome home,” he said over his shoulder, not glancing back. “How was it? Spare me the details, though, just tell me if it was successful or not.”

Even before he had walked in Shiro had instantly smelled the wonderful feast that awaited him inside his apartment. He had even stopped to just sniff the air, his stomach tightening and his mouth watering at the delectable scents that wafted from his door. Shiro, after his moment of stifled excitement, turned the handle and moved inside, greeting Blue with soft pats to her head as he shut the door behind him. When Lance spoke, he had flicked his head upwards, first taking in the sight of all the food, and then taking sight of Lance piling it onto his plate. Shiro swallowed hard, an anxious feeling tangling in his gut when he felt that little baggy in his hands. 

“It was fine,” he said quietly. Shiro’s voice was nasally -- he sounded stuffed up. Shiro sniffled, and shrugged off his coat, lifting a hand to rub at his numb nose. The walk home from the jewelry store had drained him, causing him to slouch as he moved through the apartment. “Sold some drugs. Went for a walk. Did some things. Pretty basic stuff…”   
“‘Pretty basic stuff’,” Lance echoed from the kitchen. “Of course.”

Shiro’s eyes trailed down to the bag in his hand. “Hey, uh, Lance,” he said gruffly, his system churning oddly at the sudden embarrassment that began to flame about inside of him. Shiro shut his eyes. The entire thing was stupid. Oh, how he loathed his impulsiveness… if only Shiro knew how to have second thoughts about those kinds of things... 

Oh well. There was no choice but to follow through. He’d already spent all that damn money. “Could you come here for a second?”  
“Of course!” Lance moved to the dining room, setting down two heaped plates and a gravy boat before moving over to the hall. He stood in front of Shiro, beaming. Such a little feast had lifted his spirits and brought such a sweet smile to his lips. It wasn’t clear when he had last smiled so much. “What is it? Oh, and I hope you don’t mind that I moved the dining table a little. I needed to move the chairs and I wanted to get the fairy lights adjusted. Oh- and i dug out the heater from the cupboard, as well as some really soft blankets. And I used the vacuum cleaner to get rid of all of the spiders.” He seemed so proud of himself for all of this. So much effort for what? One little meal? But Lance smiled so wide and talked to happily that it seemed worth it. Besides, Lance had been the one moving everything around for the meal and he would be the one moving everything back, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Oh yeah. That’s cool, Lance,” Shiro nodded, his voice a little distant, his eyes trailing downwards to that little baggie in his hands.

Lance suddenly seemed to remember that he had been called over for a reason and he settled down on his feet properly (having been rocking from the balls of his feet to his toes) and turned his attention to Shiro properly. “What did you want to talk to me about? Has anything happened?” Worry began to take over from Shiro’s difference in demeanour. He’d expected at least a playful remark about the spiders. Eyes following Shiro’s glance, he noticed the little baggie, assuming it was just some unsold drugs or whatever. “Shiro? Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

Shiro flicked his eyes back up to Lance. “No, no… everything’s fine,” he muttered, cheeks getting a little rosy. There was a long moment of pause, Shiro’s system tightening in on itself under Lance’s stare. My… he had been kind of close… Shiro shook his head. 

He gave a huffing sort of sigh, took a slight step backwards, and reached his hand inside the bag. Out came a small, navy blue jewelry box, the thing about as wide as Shiro’s palm as he held it, inspecting it for the price tag. Thankfully, the woman who sold it to him had ripped it off or something -- Shiro didn't see any sort of tag or sticker describing the outrageous (and still discounted!) amount of money spent on such a little, velvety box and its contents. After a moment or so of tense hesitation, Shiro gave another sort of sigh, and held the box out for him. 

“I bought this for you,” he said in a quiet sort of grumble. Shiro’s face was a mess of hot red blush, far past just rosy. His cheeks and his ears and his neck were all hot with rampant blood flow, eyes darted to the side to avoid Lance’s glittery stare before him. “Christmas gift I guess… I got it while I was out. That’s why I’m, uh, kinda late.” 

Lance hesitated a few moments, waiting for some kind of a reveal that it was a joke or something done to humiliate him or that the box would be empty or- or something along those lines. Instead, he just took the box and opened it, looking at the label.  
“Jewellery?” he asked, sending Shiro an amused glance. “What’s gotten into you? Mister ‘Casually selling drugs’?”

He soon slid the lid off, though, eyes widening at the trinket inside. He took a delicate hold on the silver chain and held it up to eye-level. As Shiro had predicted, it matched beautifully to Lance’s shining iris’s. He looked back at Shiro, looking like he was about to cry.  
“H-How much was this?” he asked, holding it close and inspecting the oval-shaped diamond. God, it truly was gorgeous. “Oh my god, Shiro, you- you really didn’t need to get me anything. I-” He clipped it on around his neck, holding the box in his other hand as he wrapped both arms tightly around Shiro’s waist. The hug was a little longer than the brief ones they’d shared before, but it was so full of genuine excitement and love. He broke away after a moment, wiping at his eyes to stop the tears before they came.

Shiro tensed beneath the hug, but he allowed himself to relax enough to awkwardly pat Lance’s shoulder before the man could pull away. Shiro watched him admire the beautiful necklace a moment or so, trying desperately to recall what that woman had said to him back at the shop. “It’s a blue diamond,” he said quietly, swallowing hard. “It’s supposed to give you strength. To balance you or something… I… I figured since I won’t always be around to protect you… this might be able to?” Shiro shook his head a little. “Y’know. Next time you think about running into a warehouse full of druggies and murderers, maybe your necklace will give you the strength to, like, not do that.” Shiro gave an awkward laugh at his little joke, trying to find a way to relieve some of the tension he felt in his stomach. 

Offering a sweet laugh, Lance smiled warmly, his eyes meeting Shiro’s. “Thank you,” he said softly. His voice was barely above a whisper now, so genuine and full of emotion. “Thank you so much, Shiro. N-Now come on, come on. Dinner’s going to get cold and I didn’t spend hours preparing it for you to let it go to waste. I wish I wasn’t in hiding- I could get you to invite some other people over for this and make it a proper meal.” 

Shiro managed to give a half smile back, and nodded. “Alright… but even if you weren’t in hiding, I don’t think I’d invite anybody else over,” he said, snorting as he made his way back to the dining table. He plopped down in his seat, watching as Lance, still cupping his jewel, made his own way to his own side of the table. Shiro waited until Lance was seated to greedily pick up his fork and dig in. “I’m not really the Christmas type, if you couldn’t tell already. Neither are any of my friends.”   
“No harm in a good meal, though,” Lance replied sweetly. “It was one of the main reasons my family celebrated christmas. We always had different ornaments and such up for the people in our family who weren’t christian or didn’t really celebrate it. We have a whole shelf we keep blank so we can put up Hanukkah decorations around this time of year. We’ve been doing it ever since I was little, even when nobody in our family was Jewish. We would have a section with no decorations, too- my family just liked having an excuse, a special day, where we could get everyone together. We didn’t get to do that often and as most jobs let people have Christmas off, so it just seemed like a good day to meet up.”

He popped some of the food into his mouth, a warm smile on his lips as he ate. His eyes were fixed on Shiro, who looked unapologetically handsome in the golden glow of the fairy lights. “It was always so chaotic. I would be wrangling the little ones to get them to wash their hands and sit still or stand still for family photos. I’d end up having to sort out all of the photos and getting everyone ready- well, it would either be me or Veronica, but-”

The stories kept coming. Lance would get halfway through one story and start up another, losing track of the first story entirely as he repeated this absent mistake. He would grin, laugh, get really into each and every story he told. His actions would only get more and more dramatic with each story- a sudden sweep of his arm, a loud proclamation, sometimes going into every little detail about the memorable little things.

At the end of the meal- when Lance was finished with his third helping and Shiro with his second-they had settled on the sofa. Lance was once again where he had been curled up before, Blue sitting on his lap, while Shiro sat opposite him. He would occasionally sing along to the christmas music and rarely, Blue would howl along with a chorus or two (her favourite song was ‘All I Want For Christmas’) but in the few moments of silence, they would just settle down with the calm atmosphere. It wasn’t too much longer before the radio had been turned off, leaving them in silence whenever Lance ran out of stories to tell.

Lance hadn’t looked so happy in so very long. If they were still together, perhaps they could do something like this again next year.


	13. The Phone, The Fight

Lance had been on his own, mindlessly organising the cupboards, for about forty-five minutes before he got bored. He could only do so many menial tasks before losing focus and needing to do something else for a while.

Immediately, stupidly, his interest focused on the phone. He picked it up, sitting on the counter with his legs crossed. 'I shouldn't be doing this' he thought as he opened the Groupme app and opened messages. 'I really shouldn't be doing this'. At least he was aware of it. 

He saw a message from a contact called Red that had been left on read. He frowned and clicked it. He scrolled through a few messages. 'Red' sent Shiro a lot of texts.

'U up?' was the first message sent today, sent at around ten past midnight. Shiro had been out drinking at that point. The message had been ignored.

'Shiro??' came the next message, a couple hours later.

'Ugh. i got weed?? I miss u' was the following, sent at around five in the morning.

'Please?' messaged Red at eight in the morning, followed by a 'gn' around an hour later. There hadn't been a message since.

Lance scrolled up further. Red had sent a lot of messages saying he knew of Sendak's visit and asking if Shiro was in trouble. He'd sent him over fifty texts within two hours. Around an hour later, after the texting had stopped with a 'please let me know you're ok', Shiro had texted back.

'Keith im ok. going out for a job. Dont text. Cant be distracted.' was all he'd gotten for a response. Red, now revealed to be Keith, messaged saying 'okay. Look after urself, kash. I dont want to be picking up ur pieces at 4am again lol'. Shiro hadn't replied to that.

Going back further, it was a pattern. Ten or twenty messages would come through at a time and Shiro would only send a reply or two afterwards. Lance had been on the receiving end of the careless texts countless times. Scrolling up further, his suspicions were confirmed. Keith had sent Shiro three paragraphs. It was littered with typos and blatant mistakes and words used poorly but the main message of them all stuck out, a simple four-word sentence sent between the first and second paragraph.

"I love you, Takashi."

It was the only sentence that didn't have a spelling error. Shiro replied almost immediately after the final paragraph was sent. 

"I'm sorry." was the first message sent. "I am. Really. But i cant. I cant get into a relationship. Not after what happened with adam, im not ready."

Keith hadn't replied to that.

Scrolling up a little further despite how everything told Lance not to at this point, the male noticed how drastically different Shiro had treated Keith before this confession. Replies every single message, genuine conversations of any and every topic that came to mind. They messaged each other hundreds of times a day, throwing around casual banter and playfully shit-talking coworkers.

It had all changed so quickly. Keith had sent three drunk texts telling Shiro too many things and it had changed everything. Not only did Shiro no longer talk to him as much, but Keith evidently didn't try to talk to him much anymore.

Lance exited the conversation and flicked through a few more options. He read a few conversations with coworkers- nothing interesting- before setting the phone down. Now he wanted to fix the rest of the cupboards to distract himself from what he had read. He felt bad for Keith. He felt bad for Shiro. He felt horrible thinking about what their relationship had become. Sure, it seemed casual, but Keith just came over whenever one of them wanted sex or to get high and left when that had been achieved.

Lance would hate to be in his position. In either of their positions.

He texted Shiro eventually.

'Out of pasta. Need rice. Everything else seems decent,' before setting the phone down. 

Deciding that his job was done for now, Lance gathered a towel and went to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and shut the door, locking it out of habit. He could just hope Keith wouldn't have a key to the bathroom or something if he came over.

Ah, humour. It only failed him when he actually wanted to be cheered up.

Shiro, in a long and frustrating trip to the grocery store, managed to get everything Lance needed into his shopping cart and into a plentiful amount of plastic bags -- including the added few texts he'd gotten on Groupme. He sat in the back of some kid's Uber, uncomfortable and crowded with grocery bags. For the seventh time that day, he told himself he should just switch to ordering food online. He had paid his driver from his phone, gathered his bags, and trudged his way to the elevator. 

Luckily, it was empty -- no Sendak, no Keith, no Zarkon. He rode it up to his room, struggled down the hall, and took a minute or so to try and unlock the door. He kicked his door open, stumbled into the kitchen, and dropped the bags all over the counter. 

He sighed, stepped back, and leaned back against the kitchen table. The shower was going -- the hiss of pipes and the patter of water apparent through the thin walls. Shiro pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and looked about the cleanliness of his apartment. Jesus, Lance couldn't go one day without cleaning. He had left one of the cabinets open, the shelves dusted and organized with glasses Shiro never used. At the sight of them, Shiro absently remembered the water bottle in his pocket. He pulled it out, and swished the remaining sip around a bit. It was lukewarm and unflattering -- mostly backwash. Shiro though about just dumping it out in the sink... but Lance had asked him to finish it. 

Shiro shrugged, uncapped the bottle, and took the final swig. He set the bottle down --somewhere Lance would be able to see it -- and began unpacking all those plastic bags. It was a little while before the sounds of the shower would cease, but when they did, Shiro had only been about halfway through ruining the neatness of Lance's organized refrigerator. 

Lance left with his towel around his waist. He'd not heard Shiro come back into the apartment and he'd not picked up any clothes for his shower. He glanced at the kitchen and turned red when he saw Shiro rummaging through the fridge, dashing to his room, the door slamming a little too hard by accident. He picked up a shirt and tugged it on quickly, then pulling on some boxers and some shorts. Now that he was adequately dressed, he combed his hair to fix his parting.

He left his room then, content to be in Shiro's company now that he was covered up. He walked over, his cheeks still slightly pink.

"H-Hey. I didn't know you'd gotten back," he said with a small smile, walking over. "Do you need any help with that?" He glanced around. "Shit, didn't know I'd asked for that much. I'll try to... manage my choices a little better next time."

"I mean, I don't think so, but I'm fuckin' messing up whatever your system was," Shiro shrugged, gesturing the fridge. "I've just been stuffing everything wherever. Oh well, gives you something to do I guess." 

He turned around and closed the fridge. Shiro held out his hand, and wiggled his fingers. "Phone, please," he said. "Hope you didn't find my secret porn folder or nothing." He said the last joke with a little snort and a shake of his head. Lance laughed softly as he handed the phone back all too eagerly.

"Nah, I- uhh- I minded my business," he lied with a smile, picking up a shopping bag and hooking it over his arm as he began putting everything away, tidying the fridge a little as he did. He was pretty good at organising things so he was able to somehow fit everything in the fridge.

He sighed softly, closing the fridge.

"What are you going to do with all the bags? Where do you usually put them?"

Shiro gave Lance a judging lift of his brow. "In... the trash?" He said slowly. He had unbagged the self-indulgent pack of Halloween Oreos he found in the clearance aisle, and ripped open the top. Shiro began eating them, leaning on the counter with his elbows. "Where else would I put them?" 

"You would keep them," Lance said with a frown. "Keep them and put them in a cupboard or something so you can take them back next time you go shopping. Helps the planet and stops you from having to throw out bags every time you go shopping," he suggested with a shrug. "Dunno, it's just what I always used to do."

He glanced around and noticed the bottle. "Oh, you finished!" He said happily, smiling. "Thanks. Do you feel any better after drinking so much? It should have helped your hangover."

Without noticing it, Shiro let himself smile at Lance's approval. "I... I guess a little bit," he muttered, lifting a hand to rub at the heat he felt rise upon the back of his neck. His cheeks seemed to have gotten a bit warm as well. Shiro looked away, trying to shake the feeling away. "I'm fine. Not nauseous anymore, at least." Lance smiled happily up at him.

He moved to take the bottle, rinsing it out and setting it to dry. "Thanks. I know you weren't obligated to do as I asked but it does mean a lot that you listened," he said softly as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "Ugh, it's getting long. I was supposed to have a haircut this week but evidently I'm not going to be getting one. I hope it doesn't get too long. I don't look good with long hair."

"It's nothing, Lance. Anyways, you don't have to worry, man. You look good," Shiro said warmly, not exactly noticing what he was saying until it slipped from his lips. It wasn't just what he said, but the way he said it. The soft, dreamy sort of hum he used... that idiotic smile still on his face and that awful blush still presently burning against his skin. 

Shiro felt as though he could die on the spot once his mind recognized what he'd just done. His reaction seemed just as bad. Shiro's eyes widened. His head shook itself back and forth, and his mouth fell open in a wordless protest. He was likely even redder than he was before. "I didn't mean it like-" he started weakly, stopping himself when he realized he'd just been making the situation worse. Shiro turned around, his shoulders tense. "What are we having for dinner tonight, huh?" That last bit had been blurted -- a panicked way to try and change the topic before Lance had even responded.

Lance had also gone noticeably red. He'd lost his train of thought and hadn't even considered a response until Shiro changed the topic. "I- Uhh- It- It's on the meal planner," he stuttered with his face still bright red. "I think I was planning on doing ribs. I-Is that okay with you?" He stumbled over his words, his cheeks still a dark red while he tried desperately to forget Shiro's words. Or, at least, the tone he had had when he'd said it. It would have been a compliment alone if it had been left at that. Instead, it felt more like a flirting remark, something less friendly. He honestly didn't know how to react to it. He just decided it would be best for them both if he didn't bring it up.

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever," Shiro mumbled, his words stout. He tried to shake some of the tense attitude from the atmosphere, desperately trying to find something to ease the tight awkwardness he had so stupidly instilled. "I... uh... actually never had ribs before." This was true. Shiro never really had the chance to try them. He had never ordered them at a restaurant on the rare occasion he'd find himself in one. He had never had them as a child -- his parents always enjoyed cooking more traditional meals. Shiro suddenly wondered what they'd taste like... if Lance's ribs would taste better than the average person's. "I guess it would be cool to try." Lance smiled fondly.

He moved to the freezer and rummaged around for a short while, soon taking out the ribs and setting them on the side to defrost as he rummaged through the recently purchased vegetables.

"Then we'll try it and if you don't like it, you can prepare something new," he said with a small and fond smile. "How does that sound?" He was doing a remarkable job of pretending that earlier hadn't happened.

"Sounds great," Shiro muttered, still turned around and staring at nothing. With a slow sigh, and with the knowledge that his blush had gone down, Shiro turned back around. He watched Lance work. "Can Blue have any? I remember you said she couldn't have... was it chicken?"

Lance nodded.

"She can have the meat but not the bones. If they splinter, it could really hurt her throat and she could need to go to the vet." Speak of the devil, Blue trotted in, carrying Black in her mouth. She jumped up at Shiro, offering the cat to him as though Black was her gift to give. Her eyes twinkled with pride, as if she was asking if she had done a good job finding Black and bringing him to Shiro.

Lance was too busy cutting vegetables while the ribs defrosted to notice.

"Hey!" 

Shiro's eyes widened, and he quickly lunged to snatch his precious, yowling cat from Blue. Blue, thankfully, released the scruff of Black's neck as soon as Shiro grabbed hold of her. He brought his cat to his chest, rubbing at her fur. "I- Jesus! Bad dog!" He cried, wagging one of his fingers towards Blue. "Cats don't go in your mouth!" 

 

He gave a soft huff, and lifted Black up so he could look at her. "Baby, are you okay?" He asked in a cooing voice, having seemingly forgotten Lance. She was still giving a soft rumbling sort of hiss, craning her neck to show Blue her fangs. "Hey, stop that. Come on, hun, you're okay." 

Lance turned, about to say something when he'd noticed how Blue's tail was no longer wagging. Her ears were pinned back, flat against her head as she whimpered before dashing off. Lance left the room to follow her and only got into the bedroom in time to see a fluffy white and grey tail disappear underneath the bed. He shut the bedroom door and returned to the kitchen.

He didn't say anything to Shiro. He figured that the spoilt damn cat deserved it. She ate Blue's food, she'd scratched both of them more than enough times, and when Blue's nice enough to try to be around her, she howls like Blue is some kind of demon. Shiro scolding his dog when Blue was totally innocent was enough to distract him from the accidental flirt earlier. He shouldn't get so worked up about it, but it wasn't as if there had been any reason to shout at Blue like that.

Especially not to the point where it made her whimper and hide. Asshole.

Shiro, still a little worried about Black and her perfectly unscathed neck, set her down. He watched her patter off into the living room and onto the couch. He followed her, settling down on the couch. Shiro noticed with an embarrassed wince that his vomit bucket had been cleaned, along with the half empty water cup and the scattered pain pills. He really was that much of a mess...

After a moment of looking for the broken remote, Shiro stood, turned on the television, and flicked through the channels. He stopped at the first localized news channel he'd found, and listened in on whatever story they were covering. The woman on screen had been halfway through her report, banners spelling BREAKING NEWS darting from one side of the screen to the other behind her. 

"-and the police seem to think there is a connection," the reporter had been stating, her tone loud and clear as it boomed about the apartment. "The disappearance of Officer Kolivan is in no doubt similar to the one of Officer McClain. Officials are confirming that the blood left in Officer Kolivan's home is in fact his own, and are deeming this a murder case. This leads Police Chief Iverson to believe Lance McClain's disappearance could have also been a murder. There are no prints, IDs, or DNA of the perpetrator, so police can not say they have any known suspects. There is speculation the murders may have been connected with the Maf-" 

Shiro, his mouth dry, had shut off the television before she could finish. "Shit..." he muttered. "Shit. We didn't clean all the blood up." Shiro brought a hand up to his head, shaking it back and forth in a nervous manner. "Damnit... the police are connecting everything. They think you're dead. Shit. Zarkon is going to have my ass." 

"And it's about fucking time that you turned that off!" Lance snapped from the doorway, his voice sharp and cold. "It's hard enough to try not to think about the fact that I'm 'missing' every single day, and now my family thinks that I'm fucking-" he took a breath, "That I'm fucking dead!" he said loudly, folding his arms over his chest. "What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm just trying to pretend that I came here as a choice and that I told my family where I would be! I'm trying to convince myself that I'm not actually living a life where I'm proclaimed dead!"

He stomped his foot on the floor, curling his hands into fists as he looked over at Shiro. "You just don't have any idea what it's like! I have to try to distract myself every night so I don't think of how my mom would react to the news or how my dad would try to comfort my siblings! I have to wake up every morning and convince myself to get out of bed because lying there and wishing I could wake up at home will do nothing!" He was getting louder now, his hands beginning to tremble, his face turning red. "And all you do is leave the news on when it talks about what other people think happened to me- what my family now thinks happened to me!"

Shiro went silent, his head cocked and his eyes wide. At first, he didn't have a reaction to Lance's shouts -- he felt a blank sort of shock. A dull confusion, maybe, but mostly a feeling of emptiness. After that thump of blankness came panic. Panic because he didn't know how to react. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. He stood, frozen and panicking, his whole system telling- screaming at him to do something. There were a few half seconds where Shiro remained in that state of hysterical terror, but then something clicked, and he figured out what he needed to do. It was the only thing he knew how to do. 

Be an asshole. 

"Well, fucking excuse me for trying to look out for us," Shiro seethed darkly, the air about them seemingly dropping a few degrees in temperature at the chilling malice of his tone. "We need to know those things, Lance! Don't you get that? The police think you're dead. Zarkon thinks I botched my job. He'd going to fucking know something is up. I never botch my job!" Shiro paused to gesture his TV. "And, incase you forgot, this is my television. This-" he rose his hands to wave around his apartment "-this is my apartment. The place that's saving your fucking life? It's mine. I can do and watch what I fucking want! Go to your room if it bothers you to know what's actually happening that fucking much!" 

Lance flinched.

He took a slight step back, his cheeks flushing red with shame. He grit his teeth again after a moment and took another step toward Shiro.

"What, so I'm just supposed to forgive everything you do because I live here? Because it's your life I'm intruding on? It wasn't my damn choice to be here, Shiro! You're the one who chose not to pull the trigger and instead to risk the death of his own reputation!" He shouted, taking another step or two toward him. "Why should I have to deal with you coming home drunk from a job to tell me that you said I was your boyfriend?! Why should I clean up your sick bucket? Why should I even be here to get you a sick bucket in the first place?! I try and I try and I try to look out for you and to make it worth it that you saved my life but every single new thing I learn about you makes me wish you'd pulled the trigger!" He said louder, now only a few steps from Shiro.

He took another step closer to Shiro, gritting his teeth. "I don't want to have to hide in my room every time Keith makes a surprise visit to ride your dick! I don't want to climb into a cupboard full of dog food because one of your coworkers makes a surprise visit! I don't want you to stand here and prepare dinner for us while you shout at my dog for doing nothing wrong! Why is it so hard for you to understand that I wanted to live a normal life! I became a police officer to protect innocent people! I didn't become a police officer to fuck up my first job and go missing because some mafia fuckhead couldn't do his fucking job!" Anger was fuelling him now, making adrenaline course through his veins, making his heart beat fast in his chest.

He just needed to cry. He'd needed to cry for days.

He needed to go to his room and curl up into a ball under the sheets. He needed to hug Blue. He needed to sob.

He needed Shiro to leave so that he could cry without being judged for it. He just wanted to live a life without Shiro. He just wanted to be away from Shiro.

He needed to be alone for however long he could be alone for.

To cry, to clear his head, to be vulnerable without anyone there to force him to open up.

Everything Lance said had hurt. It stung him deep, like poison, rotting away at his insides. Every word was like acid. Like a punch to the gut. Like a zap of electricity. Like the bite of a blade against his skin. He felt like Lance's enraged shouts were taps to his unstable system, knocking away each brick one by one until he'd crumble in on himself and collapse into nothing but brick and debris. 

The thought made him angry.

It made him so, so angry.

Every pinch of hurt was fuel to the raging fire of fake rage -- the one that crackled and roared in his chest. The one that burned brightly behind his eyes and behind his scrunched nose and twisted lips. The one that boiled his blood and crisped his nerves. Shiro felt the heat radiate from his skin, this heat different from the blush before. It felt ugly. Uncomfortable. He just wanted to get it off, any way he could. 

"But here you are!" Shiro yelled, taking his own step forward. "Here you fucking are! You messed up, and I messed up! That's what happened!" Shiro lifted a finger and pointed at him. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I should have manned the fuck up and killed you. We'd both be a hell of a lot better off. You can act like you're all fuckin' high and mighty, but you're ruining everything! All you are is a headache! You're a headache, Lance! And I'm so tired of this pain in my head... I'm so tired. And I'm trying to ignore it. I'm trying to ignore how fucking terrified I am! I'm trying to ignore how much I risked to save some ungrateful shit who wants me to buy him fuckin' everything in the world! I'm trying to ignore how much it's going to hurt when Zarkon finds out and rips my other arm from it's socket because I'm so tired!" 

"I want you to buy enough for you to be able to actually eat decent fucking meals!"

"You also want a fucking library or some shit, so don't even play that game with me!" 

Shiro had been on the verge of screaming. His face was red. His migraine was pounding. He felt like he was falling apart -- a spool of string uncoiling about the floor, becoming nothing but a mess. Nothing but a mess. 

"If I can ignore all of this, you can. If I can ignore all this fucking shit, you can ignore that your family misses you. Do you know what my family thinks of me? They don't. They kicked me out on the street the second they found out I was gay. At least your family fucking cares. At least you know they love you! Man the fuck up, Lance, and stop acting like living is such a chore! If I can get by... you can too!"

With every word Shiro said and every second Lance wasn't speaking, the anger would ebb away and leave sadness in its place. Lance knew he was lashing out because of too much stress, too many pent up emotions, but he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't cut himself off. He couldn't stop the words that spilled from his mouth.

"Did you fucking say that kind of shit to Adam?!" He shouted suddenly, almost immediately regretting the words that left his lips but not stopping there. Of course he didn't. Perhaps he wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble if he'd left it at that.

Shiro felt the world go cold.

Lance felt like his legs were going to collapse beneath him but, nonetheless, he continued. His eyes closed, squeezing shut as he spoke, throwing his full body into his insults and his anger.

"Did you tell Adam to stop acting like it was difficult? Did you shout at him when he complained? You couldn't protect him and he paid the price for your incompetence! He lost everything because of your fuckup!" He took another step forwards, challenging. "Did he know that his life would be lost because he loved you?! Did he know that since his death, however long ago that was, you'd use it to turn someone down?! Would he have still loved you if he could see the man you are right now? Incompetent and unloved!"

Tears were gathering in Shiro's eyes as Lance went on. Those last three words were the levers that let the floodgates open. He felt tears tickle his cheeks, warm against his already festering skin. He let them slip down the sides of his face and cling to his jaw before they'd slip down and fall upon his shirt. Lance's eyes were still closed, but Shiro couldn't care less. He couldn't care if Lance had seen him or not. He couldn't care if Lance saw him sob in that moment. 

He just couldn't find the strength to.

Anger was boiling up in Lance's chest and he had hit the peak of his volcanic eruption. It was going to come crashing down from here. Had he opened his eyes and seen the tears on Shiro's face, he would have shut up. He would have stopped talking from the second that there were tears in Shiro's eyes but instead- instead he kept talking. And it was the most stupid decision he could have ever made. For both of them.

"All you've done is put my life at risk by not ending it! All you did was put his life at risk by not ending your relationship! You do nothing for anyone but yourself and your stupid fucking cat! Wherever the hell he is, if he can see who you are right now, I know that he would agree with me on this! You're selfish and-"

Shiro couldn't take it any longer. 

He balled his fist together, and swung. His scabbed knuckles met the hard bone that curled around Lance's eye, splitting both his own skin and Lance's upon impact. It was a hard punch -- Shiro could feel the crack reverberate up his arm. He couldn't quite tell who the crunch of bone had come from, if it had been Lance's face or his own hand, but he didn't care. He didn't care when Lance stumbled backwards and fell onto the floor. He didn't care when Lance looked up at him, visibly terrified. He didn't care when the blood began gushing down the side of Lance's face and began dripping all over the floor. He didn't care. 

He just couldn't find the strength to. 

"Shut up!" Shiro sobbed hatefully, spitting his words as though they tasted foul against his tongue. He reached his throbbing hand to his face and wiped away at his tears. His prosthetic was glowing at his side, curled into a fist, sizzling with the heat of his anger. "Shut. Up."

Lance's terrified eyes stayed on Shiro for a few moments. It flickered from his face, the way the tears dripped down his red cheeks, his grit teeth, his eyes burning with anger, to his prosthetic. It was a soft and dull glow but intimidating nonetheless. Lance felt the fear coursing through his body. He felt it set its icy roots in its chest, feeling them grow and curl around him. The shock spread through his arms, leaving his trembling fingertips numb as they rested there.

He scrambled back when his sense came back to him, keeping his eyes on Shiro. He could feel the hot blood dripping down his cheek and it took him a moment to realise that it was his. He stumbled to his feet and shoved past Shiro as he bolted to his room. He got inside and slammed the door, clicking the lock below the handle and panting, trembling. Tears had welled up in his own eyes by now, spilling down his cheeks. His legs gave out beneath him and he crumbled to a sobbing heap by the door. He curled up a little, his head resting on the floor as he sobbed and trembled.

Blue crawled out from under the bed, whimpering, and moved to curl up in front of Lance. He turned his head so his bleeding cheek wasn't going to touch her fur as he lay his head on her.

He just lay there.

Shiro watched Lance run away, feeling nothing and everything at the same time. He flinched heavily at the slam of Lance's door, uttering a whimper of fright. Silence then began to coat everything -- draping over the apartment like a thick blanket, smothering him, suffocating him. Shiro placed his hand on his chest and gave a few hearty gasps, realizing he was having trouble breathing. 

Shiro sank down to his knees, and then hunched over, both his hands gripping at his head as he gasped and gulped for air. He knelt there and let the panic attack pass, alone on the hard floor of his living room. After what had to be ten minutes, Shiro finally felt himself mist back into his senses, the sudden press of Black's head against his face grounding him. Her fur was soft against the numbness of his face. Absently, he reached out to rub her head, whimpering out her name as he petted her cheek. 

It took him a few moments to calm down, breathing air in through his nose and out through his mouth, petting Black with gentle strokes of his hand. She purred against him, the rumbling buzz of her comfort making Shiro's cold insides feel warm. At least he could love her. At least he could love her and she wouldn't get hurt. At least she loved him. 

At least she loved him.

After a while, those same thoughts heavy in his mind, he managed to pull himself up to a wobbly stand. Black followed him closely as he stumbled his way to his bedroom. He opened the door, held it for his cat, and closed it -- gently. 

The bed was still bare. The sheets and the blankets were still in the dryer. Shiro didn't care. He crawled into his bed, curled himself up in a trembly ball, and closed his eyes tight. His mind was screaming, but he didn't really hear anything. Shiro's chest was burning, but he didn't feel it. He felt as though he could scream, but he had no voice. 

Feeling everything and nothing at the same time, Black curled up in the bend of his legs, Shiro willed himself into a sorrowful sleep. 

When Lance finally got up again, it was dark out. His tears had dried but only because he had no more tears left to cry. His throat was dry, raw from sobbing. His body was still numb. His cheek still burned like fire licked at it and flames were kindled from the shattered bone.

He brought himself to his feet, his legs shaking underneath him. He swayed for a moment before crumbling to his knees again. It took him a moment to regain the effort needed to get up. He moved to the mirror. Blood had stained his cheek and had seeped into his eye a little from how he had been lying. That would explain why half of his vision had a red tint.

He sat down and studied his face a little better.

Splotches of black and blue curled around below his eye in a crescent shape. He had a black eye.

He picked up a wipe from his bedside table and made the mistake of attempting to wipe the wound to clean it. Having not yet realised it was broken, he only cried out in agony. Blinding shots of pain burst across his mind from the small wound to his cheek- where Shiro's knuckles had made the first impact.

He wondered if Kolivan had been given a black eye.

He promptly pushed the thought away.

He stood, swaying a little, and stripped to his boxers. He then pulled on a new shirt, one that wasn't stained in blood. He picked up the cloth and used it to wipe his neck and cheek, keeping distance between the cloth and his cheekbone.

The bedroom door opened and Blue trotted out. Lance took a moment to remind himself that that was his dog, a husky. His thoughts turned to Black. She was the probably only one at peace after this whole fucking ordeal- she only cared for herself.

He staggered, dazed, to the kitchen. What was his first job? His head hurt, so he figured painkillers. Then he realised he needed a drink. Then he realised that he ought to have both, just to be safe. He got out some of the ibuprofen Shiro hadn't taken and swallowed them dry before filling a glass and draining it. He drank a few more glasses, his throat like sandpaper, before being content. First aid kit? No bandaid would fix a broken cheekbone.

Nonetheless, once he'd endured the agony of spraying his wound with disinfectant, he got it out and put a medical bandaid over it to stop it from getting infected.

He took a few moments to decide what to do. He returned to his room and moved to sit in bed. Then he lay down.

And, after around an hour, he got up. He couldn't sleep. Of course he couldn't sleep, he didn't like being alone. He didn't like how the consequences of the argument still hung over his head.

Picking up a piece of lined paper, he took a pen from his desk. He ought to leave a note for Shiro for in the morning if he's going to do what he currently thinks he's going to do.

"Takashi,

I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry for arguing and I'm sorry for saying what I said. It's been hell for me lately but it's not been much different for you.

Everything is new and everything is scary and I've never been so anxious before. I've never had to run to my bedroom and hide when I heard a knock on the door. I never had to cower away from anything. I've never been unarmed or"- multiple misspellings of the word 'vulnerable' were scribbled out.

"Or weak or defenseles. You look after me and i try to show you that i appreciate it but i fail.

Im sorry.

Im really sorry.

You have a reallly strong punsh nd ithink it brok my face" 

His handwriting was messy now and his work was littered with spelling mistakes. Then, finally, to seal the deal,

"Thank you,

Lance."

He picked up the note. He read it a few times before adding, in a small little scribble beneath his name

'I love you for this'

And then he stood. He picked up his blanket and a pillow and stumbled to Shiro's room. He pushed open the door and let it click shut behind him. He set the note down on the bedside table, facing down. It had 'LANCE' written on the back to show Shiro who had written it.

He moved into bed beside the sleeping male and closed his eyes, sniffling a little as he sank under the blanket he had just thrown onto the bed. His bare legs lay over Shiro's and the soft jogging bottoms Shiro wore were suddenly the most comforting things in the world. Feeling the fabric of Shiro's shirt and his jogging bottoms was comforting. Even just knowing that Shiro was there, that they were lying with each other, was enough for Lance. It made him feel safe. Protected. Dare he even think that he was loved?

Lance lay beside Shiro, pressing the uninjured side of his face against his chest. His eyes fell closed and, within a minute, he was asleep.

His last lingering wish was that he'd not be woken up to another punch and another broken bone.


	14. Meeting With Zarkon

Shiro woke up and, like the two mornings before, felt the warmth of another person in his bed. At first he embraced it -- the warmth from Lance felt simply serene against the bitter numbness of his body. It seeped into his chilled skin and thawed his frozen insides. Shiro's hold tightened against the body pressed against his chest -- Lance had been the perfect size against his form. Shiro held him close and breathed in his smell, the warmth finally reaching the base of his chest. Somehow, the warmth from Lance almost juxtaposed the heat of his anger the night before. That fire was dirty and painful. The one he felt now was cozy and inviting. Shiro sighed, feeling Lance's breath pour against his neck, tickling his skin. Absently, he lifted a hand and brought it to Lance's head, his fingers playing with Lance's hair -- like he used to do to Adam when they'd wake in the morning. It pained his sore knuckles but it felt nice.

That went on for a few thoughtless minutes. It only stopped when Shiro came to the realization just what he'd been doing, and who he'd been doing it to. His eyes snapped open, and Shiro looked down, hoping for anything but the inevitable sight he'd knew he'd see.

Again, a beat of anxious panic thrummed through him. Shiro tried to remember the night before, wondering if he had really done it that time. A soft feeling of relief flooded him when he remembered what happened -- but only for a moment. After that fleeting second, he felt a soft flicker of his previous rage. Then came the guilt -- a swathing wave of guilt when he remembered the look Lance had given him, trembling and bloody on the floor. All of this hit Shiro in an instant, his eyes stuck on Lance as everything ran though his mind.

Shiro could think of nothing else but getting up. He slipped out of Lance's grip, and slid from the bed. He stood on numb legs, stumbling backwards into the bedside table. Shiro's hands patted backwards, looking for something to grab and squeeze to try and help his mind focus. He felt a piece of paper and gripped it tightly, hearing a crinkle from his fist. Breath feeling caught in his throat, Shiro brought the crumpled paper forwards, and unfolded it. It read Lance's name. Shiro narrowed his eyes and pulled it up towards his face. He pat backwards for his glasses, and slipped them onto his face. Then he flipped the paper over.

The note was short. It started off easy to read, but became harder as Lance's frantic thoughts dragged on. Shiro ran his eyes over the scrawled writing, feeling his chest clench a bit tighter with each word. Finally, he came upon Lance's last scribbled sentence, everything in him stopping at the five messy words.

I love you for this.

Shiro's gaze softened.

I love you.

Shiro let his gaze drift over to the sleeping Lance, and then dragged it down to his hand. Bruised, bloody knuckles, calloused rough fingers, and an empty, lonely palm. Shiro closed his fist. He thought about the other day -- the other day he felt that longing for Lance's touch and dismissed it as his regular loneliness.

I love you.

Shiro placed the note down onto the table, and then put his glasses next to that. Slowly, as to not wake Lance, Shiro crawled back into bed. He curled up next to Lance, and hugged him close like he had before. His mind flickered with the thought of their argument, but he shook it away, closing his eyes. They'd worry about it later.

They'd worry about it later...

That thought on his mind, Shiro drifted off into another sleep.

Lance snuggled into Shiro when he returned. It had been cold in the few seconds that he had been gone and he immediately sank back into the warmth when it returned.

He stirred shortly. His sleep had been dreamless and peaceful but all too short- he wished that he could have woken up a little later. A long while later. He craved more sleep.

He focused on what was happening now. He opened his eyes to see the blanket from his room but Shiro's bedroom. He could feel strong arms around him. He could feel Shiro's chest rise and fall and hear his soft breathing. He felt oddly relaxed. His shoulders sagged slightly and he turned his eyes to Shiro. He shifted a little, wriggling to lie on his side slightly. He reached up, toying with Shiro's soft and fluffy hair.

He stayed silent. He didn't want to disturb Shiro. He didn't want to wake him up at all. He didn't know if Shiro had seen his note or woken up at all and he wasn't sure if wanted to know or not. All he was aware of was his need for contact. He needed to be with Shiro right now. He let his hand fall, wrapping his arm weakly around Shiro as he ducked under his chin and into the crook of his neck. His eyes closed.

He'd just stay here for a little bit. Just until Shiro woke up and (he assumed) kicked him out.

Until then, he could risk staying.

They laid there together for another hour and a half. Sometimes Shiro would awake and feel the slumbering Lance pressed against him. Sometimes it would be the other way around. Sometimes, they'd both wake, and just lie with each other, knowing they were both awake, but knowing it silently. Quiet, one running his hands through the other's hair, arms wrapped tight around one another against the seemingly freezing air of Shiro's room. Once or twice, Shiro let the cool metal of his prosthetic brush against Lance's blackened bruises, only pulling away when Lance would utter a soft hiss of pain.

They were both asleep, however, when Shiro's work phone blared out from his bedside, the thing shaking the entire table as it vibrated.

Shiro jolted up, releasing his hold against Lance, and grabbing for the screaming cell. He snatched it up, read the number as Sendak's, and sat straight up in his bed. Lance beside him had been awake now as well, pushing up with a furrowed look upon his brow. Shiro disregarded him, his finger hesitantly pressing the green accept button, and then his hand bringing the phone up to his head.

 

"Did you see?" Sendak asked, his deep voice grave.

Shiro nodded, despite Sendak being on the other side of the phone rather than in the room with him. "Yes. Yeah, I saw," Shiro croaked. His voice was glazed with sleep, but also weak with all of the yelling he'd done the night before. Shiro reached a hand up to rub at his raw eyes. "I saw it on the news last night."

"Why the fuck didn't you call me?" Sendak snapped loudly through the speaker. He had been so loud, Shiro had to pull the speaker away from his ear. He flicked his eyes to Lance, who, judging by the guilty glint in his tired eyes, had heard.

"I-I'm sorry, man... I got busy," he muttered weakly, bringing his hand to his head.

There was a huff from the other line. "What could be so important you forgot to call me? About this?" Sendak barked. "We messed up. We messed up. Zarkon is going to have our asses."

"I know, I know," Shiro said. He ran his hand through his hair. "I... L... Leonardo was over. I didn't want him to know or-or get suspicious-" his lie was quick and blurted. Shiro had pulled it from nowhere. "We fell asleep. I meant to call you... I just never got to."

"Alright, whatever, Romeo. Did you see the text? Zarkon wants us at his place in three hours."

Shiro's heart dropped. "No... I didn't see that. Shit," he murmured weakly. "Jesus. What do you think he's gonna do?"

"Nothing to you, golden-boy," Sendak grumbled. "Probably just gonna dock your pay."

"I... shit. Whatever..." Shiro said. He offered a look towards Lance, biting the inside of his cheek. "I should go. I... I guess I'll see you there."

Shiro waited for a response, but only got a moment or so of silence, and then the beeping of the other line. Quietly, Shiro placed the phone back down on his bedside table. He rubbed at his face with his hands, trying to massage the puffiness from his eyes and his cheeks. "That was Sendak," he murmured tiredly. "Zarkon is pissed. I... I have to go soon..." Lance nodded.

He looked up at Lance. The bruise that crept out the sides of Lance's bandage stood apparent upon his face, puffed out against his skin, painful looking. "Your eye," he said gently. "I... I'm sorry... What you said... it hurt me... it just... I wasn't thinking. I lashed out."

Turning his gaze away from Shiro, Lance nodded. He wrapped his arms around Shiro's waist and pressed into his chest.  
"You shouldn't apologise," he said almost immediately. "Everything, everything that I said was uncalled for and totally out of line." He pulled back a little, moving one hand to run it through Shiro's hair. "And now you're getting in shit." Sniffling, he pulled back. "And I didn't do shit to help because I got upset."

Lance eventually managed to convince himself to get up and began to shift away from him.

"How long does it take you to get to Zarkon's? I can make some breakfast for you if you want it?" he suggested, frowning as he yawned.He stretched, raising both hands under his head and closing his eyes. When he relaxed again, he tugged his shirt down properly. He couldn't remember why he'd not worn any shorts or anything but, then again, he could only remember running to his room and after being hit and then he'd... woken up here this morning. He could recall certain things if he tried hard enough but never well enough to know exactly what had happened.

All he knew was that he'd done something for Shiro to let him stay and now he was in Shiro's bed. He couldn't remember anything else.

Not that it mattered. He was just grateful that he'd been able to stay in the first place.

"It takes about an hour and a half. I'll have to start getting ready soon," Shiro said softly. He slipped off of the bed into a stand, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension of his back. "I don't need breakfast. I... I'm a little nauseous still." This was true — Shiro always found that the morning after he'd cry himself to sleep would always have him a little sickly. Even if he didn't eat dinner the night before, Shiro felt as though one bite of anything would leave him heaving over the toilet seat.

Shiro paused a moment before addressing Lance's apologies. "You said some harsh shit, but that doesn't mean I didn't," he muttered, fumbling his thumbs together in a nervous manner. "I should have understood. You were basically announced dead... I... I don't know what that feels like. I don't know what it feels like to worry about a family, or- or to miss one. I shouldn't have said fuckin' anything. I didn't know what I was talking about. If I actually understood basic human emotions we wouldn't have even gotten into that fight in the first place."

Lance watched him for a few moments before slipping out of bed and hugging him tight.

"I'm still sorry. It was my fault. It's just been shit and stressful these last few days and- I don't know. I took it out on you. I'm sorry," he said as he wrapped his arms around him a little tighter. Only then did he pull back. "I'm going to go ahead and feed Blue and Black." Speaking of, a small jingling of a cat's bell and something fluffy brushed Lance's leg. He jolted slightly, having not expected her to ever be affectionate with him before reaching down and hesitantly petting the top of her head.

She nudged his hand with her head and let out soft purrs, causing Lance's heart to flutter with pride. She'd never been so nice to him. It was quite an achievement, in his books.

"Alright," Shiro said softly, watching Lance with a furrowed sort of look. "And... it's alright. I forgive you. It's alright."

Lance had offered Shiro a nod and a smile, and left the room.

Shiro had to admit he had liked Lance's hug, just like earlier when he had to admit he had liked Lance's cuddling. Every moment they'd touch, it'd be warm — making every moment they were apart just a little more cooler. Shiro reached up and rubbed at his arms, watching Lance leave to go feed the pets. When Lance left, he had closed the door, leaving Shiro alone in a fairly silent bedroom. For a brief moment, Shiro could hardly recognize it as his own.

He got up after a few minutes of sitting there, contemplating and wondering. Shiro began to dress himself for his visit with Zarkon, not feeling up to a shower just then — almost as though he didn't want to wash the ghost of Lance from his skin. Zarkon's meeting required a more professional look. Shiro pulled on a white button up, black slacks, and figured he'd wear his black dress shoes that were left by the door. He slipped on his glasses, and left the quietness of his room behind.

Shiro couldn't deny the sight of the living room offered him a bit of a shock. Just hours ago, he had called Lance a headache, and Lance had called him unlovable. Just hours ago, Shiro had hurt Lance. The evident blood stains upon the floor proved that with the most vile sort of apparentness. Shiro felt almost obligated to clean it up... he knew how to get blood off of apartment flooring.

Slowly, with his eyes skirting towards Lance for the briefest moment, Shiro went over to the sink and grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet. He soaked it with cold water, made his way to the living room and got down onto his knees. Shiro scrubbed away, pretending he didn't notice Lance staring at him from the kitchen.

Lance watched him as he begun cleaning, turning his attention back to the cats food as he set it down on the table. 'Huh,' he thought to himself. 'I didn't know he was capable of cleaning.'

He brushed his hands off on his shirt once he'd washed them, getting himself a bowl and some cereal. He was so hungry that it felt like his stomach was scratching at itself. He was tired, barely focusing as he poured his cereal and milk into a bowl. He leant on his hand as he moved the cereal around. His eyes surveyed the apartment as he shovelled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. He needed to clean up again. It wasn't too surprising that the kitchen needed tidying already (the food that was supposed to be cooked last night was still out) but it was a little frustrating.

He crossed his ankles a little, listening to the loud crunching of Blue's biscuits and the soft tinkling of Black's bell from her collar as she ate her own breakfast. The absent sounds of the apartment were pleasant- much better than the awkwardness there would be if it was only himself and Shiro.

Upon finishing his breakfast, he stood and brushed himself off, which was when he realised that he wasn't wearing his shirt. It must have been one of Shiro's shirts. He washed up his bowl and set it aside before clearing away the dishes that had dried and putting them away in the appropriate drawers.

"H-Hey, Shiro?" He called as he tugged the shirt, looking down at it. "Is this yours? It's got uhh- S-Sven, I think it was, from that film that was on a while ago? It's got Sven and it says, uhh, 'How do you organise an attack in space?' 'You planet'? I know it's not mine but it's not something you would wear, so..." he looked up as he left the kitchen, looking over at Shiro in the hall, who had just finished cleaning the blood.

Shiro's face went red. "I- I mean yeah it's mine but... I got it like a million years ago at a convention. Leave me alone," he stuttered, turning to look at Lance, his hand up and waving back and forth in an argumentative manner. He opened his mouth to further defend himself, but then Shiro's eyes really fell upon Lance. Lance -- in nothing but boxers and a shirt. Shiro's shirt. It was too big for him, just barely hanging over one of his shoulders, exposing his freckled skin and collar bone. Shiro's eyes trailed further downwards, catching sight of the smooth skin of Lance's legs. Instantly, he snapped his gaze away, and brought a hand up to his head. Shiro blew a long breath through his lips.

"Hah- yeah... yeah... that's my shirt. Lame, right- hah-" he bumbled stupidly, his mind traveling back to that morning. Had... had he cuddled with a pantsless Lance? Jesus.

Lance looked down at the shirt again, admiring it. He smiled a little.

"It's cute," he mumbled. "I mean, it's dorky, but it's cute. You don't wear it anymore?" he asked, turning his eyes to Shiro as if he was hopeful. He was about one particular answer from asking if he could keep the shirt. It was comfy and sure, it was too big, but it was cute. He really did like it.

He then moved over to Shiro and knelt down beside him, smiling as he looked up at him, eagerly awaiting the answer. If Shiro said he didn't wear it, Lance would ask to keep it. If he said he did, Lance would ask if he wanted it back. Unless Shiro was willing to give up his shirt, he was in a paradox. Give it up and lose a pretty cool shirt that he did actually like, or admit to liking the shirt and the show.

Sure, it didn't seem like a big thing, but it a matter of life and death for Shiro's reputation.

Shiro felt the same way, the dilemma that plagued his mind stretching out the pause between Lance's question and his answer. Of course Shiro still wore it. He'd just stashed it away in the guest room to keep Keith from noticing it, as he did with all of his other dreadfully embarrassing clothing. With a quiet sigh, Shiro decided to take his losses.

"Yeah, every now and then, I guess," he muttered weakly, keeping his eyes from the half dressed Lance as he confessed one of his darkest secrets. "I'm a fuckin' closeted nerd. Take one good look through the movies I have saved on my cable box for Christ's sake. It's all just dumb space junk. Aliens n' giant robot mechs n' shit. I... I fucken live for it." Shiro added that last bit with a huffed laugh, figuring he couldn't get any lower.

What the hell. Lance basically knew everything else about him. Being a dork wasn't anything too world breaking compared to all of the other shit Lance had learned in the past few days. Shiro held onto those thoughts as he awaited Lance's reaction.

Lance glanced down at the shirt and then back at Shiro. Figures.

"So I... I can't keep it?" he asked, huffing slightly. "When will you want it back? Because I was about to go get some pants on so if you want it back soon, I can have it washed and by your bedroom for whenever you're ready." He stood, stretching. Even with his arms reaching above his head, the shirt still didn't lift further than his hips. It was... god knows how many sizes too big for him. Lance began plodding to his room. "And you're sure you don't want breakfast? Because I still have some to make something quick."

Shiro offered a snort. "Go ahead and keep it if you want to. I have a million Sven shirts stashed in that guest room -- and a bunch of other ones for the rest of the crew," he said, not holding back his nerdery any longer. It felt good to just say it... as trivial as the matter was, it felt like a weight lifting from his shoulders. "And yeah. If I get hungry I'll just swing somewhere on my way back... that's if I do come back... He might keep me there for a while for questioning." Lance grinned.

"Thank you! And you better get me something, too! I'm sick of making my own food and I'm taking a damn stand! I want some greasy fast food and I want it today!" He said with playful severity before disappearing to his room. The door was pulled shut and Lance found some baggy blue jeans a size too big for him and a black belt. He tugged the jeans on and tucked the shirt into them, tightening the belt. He left the room shortly, having brushed his hair and avoided looking in the mirror to avoid seeing his ugly bruises.

"Good luck," he said softly to Shiro when it came time for him to leave. "I'll be waiting for you. Not that I have any other choice, but you get what I mean. Try to be home by dinner~" he added the last sentence teasingly, patting Shiro's shoulder before moving away.

Shiro laughed softly, unconsciously placing his hand on the shoulder Lance had touched. "I'll... I'll try. Keep my phone close to you, okay? If something goes wrong, I'll send you a message... Hopefully I'll be back soon."

Shiro's voice was strenuous as he tried to force the nerves from his system. Lance had been so energetic, so happy and carefree. It made Shiro's head light with relief, the look so wonderful on Lance compared to the look the officer had held the night before. Shiro didn't want to ruin it with the darkness of his own system, so he held it deep in his chest and forced a smile. Only after Shiro had waved and slipped through his door did his face fall into a frown. Shiro lifted a hand to his head, and rubbed at that same temple — an action he found to be rather prevalent in the past few days.

A meeting with Zarkon. A meeting with Zarkon, that was all it was. Sendak would be there. Sendak, in fact, was in equal amount of trouble. It was just a meeting. A few questions here and there, a few threats, and maybe a new bruise for good measure. Shiro suddenly wondered if Zarkon would hit him... it was a rare occasion after Adam and everything. Shiro had to really mess up for a physical punishment anymore.

Tipping off to the police that the mafia was killing officers and making it seem like they skip town seemed like a fairly large fuck-up.

Shiro sighed, leaned off of his door, and went on his way.

Lance had done just about everything to soothe his nerves. His anxiety was shooting through the roof by the time Shiro had gotten home and there had been nothing to do for two hours by then. The kitchen had been cleaned and reorganised and Lance had organised the films by date released, then by title, then by colour before putting them into order of title mixed with order of series.

By the time he heard the door open, he had been curled up on the sofa with his arms wrapped around Blue for around two hours. He'd been panicking in stages. After cleaning, he had been pacing, then talking to himself. Then he ate to try to distract himself before curling up on the sofa.

He'd ranted to Blue, rambling and spilling out every anxious thought he had before falling silent, his face planted into Blue's fur.

But when the door unlocked and the sweet sound of the door opening came to Lance's ears, he sat up. There were two options- it was Shiro or it wasn't. If it was, then everything was fine. If it wasn't, Shiro was likely dead and this was someone to take his stuff.

Or, worst of all, it could be Keith. Shit- that wouldn't be fun. He'd not have time to hide.

Shiro had gotten away with Zarkon's meeting with nothing but a relatively deep cut on the side of his right jaw from one of Zarkon's prized blades.

Well, there was the cut, and the tangling of anxiety twisted about his guts.

Of course, his talk with Zarkon had gone considerably better than Sendak's. When Shiro had arrived to Zarkon's office, the door had been closed, and the two gravelly voices had already started their conversation inside. Shiro sat down and waited for his turn, listening to the increase of volume. Shouts, some accusing and some fervent with denial, rang from the office until Shiro heard the chilling sound of a punch. There was a bit more conversations after that, but not too much. Soon, Shiro watched the door open, and watched Sendak limp out. He was offered a dark stare from the bleeding Sendak, but nothing more. Shiro then stood, and made his way into the office, gnawing on the insides of his cheek.

The meeting itself hadn't been too shocking. Zarkon greeted him cooly. He mentioned that Shiro looked like shit, and he could tell the man had been crying. Zarkon then went on to describe the situation at hand. He had explained that as long as the police couldn't find the bodies of Lance and Kolivan, they would be okay. Zarkon had also, in the middle of his chastising, told Shiro that he was happy with his performance in the murder of Lance — at least he had cleaned up all of the blood on that job. Shiro figured that certain praise was what determined his punishment. All Zarkon did was place the blade on Shiro's cheek in a sort of threat, and then dragged it down over the curve of his jaw.

"Don't let it happen again," Zarkon had commanded darkly, flicking the blood from his knife.

Shiro promised it wouldn't, his throat dry.

The only thing that really worried him, aside from the similar terror he felt every time he'd come in acquaintance with the horrid mafia king, was when Zarkon had mentioned Leonardo. He had been going on about Shiro's performance, and muttered something along the lines of "this new boyfriend Sendak is telling me about shouldn't be distracting you." The stout comment made Shiro's whole system freeze in its tracks, and still, even as he made his slow way to his apartment room, left him feeling uneasy.

The lie had grown. Shiro just hoped it wouldn't get too big. He could easily see it overcoming him.

Shiro unlocked the door, and pushed it open. He lifted a hand to his face to try and hide his cut — feeling guilty about sporting it for some reason. He didn't quite want Lance to rush to tend him... not when the bruises shaped like Shiro's knuckles still tribes against the officers skin.

"Lance, it's me," he said, closing the door with his foot. In his free hand, he held two bags of Taco Bell. Shiro had gone there for food, only getting one or two concerned glances from the customers around him. The rest were used to his odd presence. "I've got tacos. Shit ton of 'em too."

Lance was out of the living room immediately. He wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, whimpering a little as he held tightly to him.

"Not even a text?" he asked, his voice shaking a little. "You were gone out hours! I was so worried, Takashi!" he said anxiously as he looked up at him, sniffling a little and detaching after a second. "Fuck- I'm, I'm sorry I was just really, really worried," he said as he rubbed his arm, moving to sit at the table in the kitchen. He stayed otherwise silent.

Blue was much more vocal. She ran circles around Shiro, sniffed his bags of food and yapped and jumped up at him, jumping down to run around his feet before jumping again. Black hadn't left the sofa.

Shiro took the hand from his face to hold Blue back from the food. His fingers were bloody, but he pretended not to notice. "Sorry. I- I should have texted you," he said with a weak shrug. His waist was still warm from Lance's hold. "I just wanted to get home. Zarkon was intense."

Once Blue had gotten the message she wasn't allowed near the food, Shiro pulled his hand back up his face, hoping Lance didn't see. He set the bags down on the kitchen table, and began backing his way towards the bathroom, figuring he'd be able to escape and treat his face before Lance could say anything. "I didn't know what you wanted — I just got everything," Shiro said quickly. "Go on and dig in, I-uh- gotta do something."

Lance grabbed ahold of Shiro's hand.

"No," he said firmly. "No you don't. Sit down while I deal with whatever the fuck he did to hurt you," he said sharply, firmly, giving Shiro no room to argue as he got out the first aid kit. "What did he say to you? I-If you want to tell me," he said as he looked at Shiro, frowning a little. He was incredibly worried for Shiro and he didn't even attempt to cover it up. Blue let her head rest on Shiro's lap and whined at him to show her concern.

"It's nothing, Lance, just a scratch," Shiro muttered guiltily, his eyes casted down towards the floor. "He didn't say much. Just told me not to mess up again..." He hesitated, wondering if he should worry Lance with the next part. After a moment or so, Shiro figured Lance should have known. It was his problem too, he supposed. "Sendak told him about Leonardo... I'm really digging myself in a hole with all that shit." Lance nodded.

"It's alright," he mumbled. "It'll... it'll be alright eventually. We just need to avoid further mistakes," he mumbled. "Though that advice probably doesn't help coming from an ex-cop who couldn't even complete his first actual case."

He wiped Shiro's face clean and bandaged him up before fixing his hand, sighing a little. He looked up at Shiro. "How do you feel now? Is that better?" He stood and brushed himself off a little while Blue jumped onto Shiro's lap. She wasn't lapdog sized but that wouldn't stop her.

Shiro didn't mind Blue. He pet her head and ran his fingers through the fur of her back as her tail thumped happily. "It's fine... it feels fine..." he said, feeling dirty. Quickly, he flicked his gaze upwards, hoping to shove that guilt out of his system. "What about your eye? I... your note said I broke your face. It's not that bad, is it?" Lance laughed nervously.

"I- I think you actually broke something," he said softly. "But I can't really go to a doctors so- so I'm not sure what to do. It fucking kills to have anything touch my cheekbone, right-" he gestured to where the skin had split, where Shiro's fist had made direct impact, "there."

"Jesus, really?" Shiro asked, straightening up a little. "Fuck... I figured that crack was my knuckles or something..." He trailed off and brought his bandaged hand to his face. "Must have been a good fuckin' punch... but-but that's not the point!" Shiro stood and moved towards Lance. He leaned in to look closer at the blackened wound— stopping his hand short before he'd let himself touch Lance's face. Shiro pulled away, guilty again. "Are you okay? I... I could probably figure something out... there's gotta be like home doctors or something, you know?" His voice was pitched with concern. Lance shrugged a little.

"It doesn't really hurt unless I touch it but it'd be comforting to have someone look at it," he said nervously. "But won't it cost a fortune? Not to mention what'll happen if I'm recognised- I don't know if it'll be worth the risk."

He moved back, getting a glass of water and sipping it while he rummaged through the bag of tacos. "Honestly, though, this shit is lifesaving. Thanks," he said as he took out the first one he found, setting the bag on the table as he ate.

Shiro, feeling a bit exasperated with shame, gave an absent minded nod. "I got, like, twenty hardshells..." he said weakly. "I thought you'd be hungry. We didn't eat last night."

His hand had been at his face -- feeling around at his injuries. Shiro's fingers brushed against the coarse fabric of the bandage at his jaw, and then rose up to the fading bruise he had gotten from Kolivan. He traced the raised throb, giving a soft huff of laughter. "I mean... I guess we match..." Shiro muttered in a tired sort of way, a soft smile on his lips. It faded quickly.

"Christ. I still can't believe I did that. I... I feel awful. I hit you so fuckin' hard..."

"Hah, yeah... at least it wasn't with the metal arm, though. I can be grateful for that."

Without warning, Shiro's mind took him back to the night before. Back to him, a mindless mess of rage and sorrow, swinging a wild punch -- the full strength of his body packed behind his tightly balled fist. Back to him screaming at the bloody, terrified Lance who cowered on the floor to shut up. It all made Shiro feel like hitting himself with that same amount of anger and malice he'd used to break Lance's face. It made Shiro want to stay as far away from Lance as possible because he didn't deserve to be anywhere near him. It made Shiro feel dirty and disgusting for cuddling him and hugging him and looking at his legs and letting him keep his shirt and all of that other fucking shit Shiro should have known he wasn't good enough to do.

And, in that moment, it made Shiro want to cry again. He didn't, of course. But he felt like he could. If he was alone and if it was safe to... Shiro could easily break down into tears with all of that self loathing that sat heavy in his system.

Lance ate his lunch, keeping his eyes absently on the table. He just planned on doing nothing but ignoring what had happened. He couldn't exactly remember how he had dealt with it in the moment- only that he had done something and then he'd woken up in Shiro's room. It was nicer than sleeping in his room, anyway. The bed was comfier, the bed was bigger, and Shiro was perfect to snuggle up to.

Shiro sat in his spot across from Lance. He grabbed one of the tacos and ate about half before he could eat anymore. His stomach was turning and, although Shiro could feel the empty concaveness of his gut, considerably numb feeling. No matter how hungry he could have been in that moment, Shiro figured he couldn't suffer through another bite. He pushed the half eaten taco and it's wrapping away.

Maybe he could get high. That would fix things, wouldn't it? That could fix everything: his tenseness, his guilt, his numbness. Weed would make him want to eat. Weed would let him relax. Forget about Sendak and Zarkon and Lance and all the things Lance said and all the things Shiro said and anything else he had swirling around in the violent whirlpool of his rampant mind.

Weed would help.

"I'm going to shower," he said after a few moments of contemplation. Shiro paused, thinking of another excuse to stay alone for an hour or so to get high. "I'm also gonna take a nap. Just put the leftovers in the fridge I guess. I'll eat more later."

Shiro stood and stretched. "Don't wait up on me," he muttered before turning to leave towards the bathroom.


	15. Weed and Excuses

Lance watched him leave. He only nodded in response, his mouth full of taco. He ate three or four of them before putting the leftovers into the fridge and beginning to retreat to his room. He yawned a little, having exhausted himself with all of his worrying.

Removing his belt and pants to simply slip into bed, Lance began trying to fall asleep.

Trying being the main word.

He didn't know how long passed. He lay there with the curtains drawn and Blue lying beside him, one arm wrapped around the dog like she was his personal cuddly toy. He couldn't figure out why he couldn't sleep. He was tense, anxious, every part of his brain was telling him that this newfound peace between him and Shiro wouldn't last.

'He's already hit you once. He'll do it again,' his mind would echo, forcing him to think of and believe this shit. Absolute shit. He refused, he denied it, but overall he couldn't help but agree with it. Sure, he had only been hit because he had started his shit and he'd fucked up and everything, but it was hard to convince himself that Shiro could be trusted when he'd broken his cheekbone in a moment of blind anger.

Shiro's shower was quick -- rushed with the anticipation of getting high. He washed himself, dried himself, tiptoed into his room, and then closed and locked his door. Shiro pulled on a pair of boxers and loose sweatpants and nothing else, his eyes squinted as he looked around for that baggie of weed Keith had thrown at him the other day. He found it, plopped down upon his bed, and groped for some random papers he left in the drawers of his bedside table for that very reason. Shiro rolled his joint, lit the end, and took a long drag -- his actions rushed, as though he couldn't stand one more second of being sober.

His chest tickled. Puffs of smoke left his mouth and nose as he coughed, blush of shame rising in his face. Slower, Shiro inhaled another deep drag, and tried to hold the warm smoke in his chest as long as he could. He let out a long, calm breath, the smoke unfurling from his lips in a beautiful, twisting veil. Shiro's eyes watched it rise up and distill about the ceiling, a soft smile spreading across his face. He forgot how much more peaceful getting high on his own was -- how quiet and how simple. No talking, no listening, no holding his tongue to keep from spilling his secrets. Shiro took another drag, and let it out in a gentle giggle, leaning back on the mattress. Of course, getting high all by himself was considerably more sad -- pitiful, even -- than getting high with Keith, but it felt good enough he didn't think about it.

A few more huffs and a few more puffs, and the blunt was done. His head swimming and light, Shiro rolled another one, and then another one after that. They were smaller -- he didn't have too much weed, after all. His record was six small ones in a single sitting before he had passed out. Shiro figured he'd be fine with four or maybe even five.

One more, he told himself, letting the ash fall all about his bare mattress.

Maybe two...

"Shiro?" Lance's voice came through the door, quiet with apprehension but still loud enough for Shiro to hear him clearly. "Shiro, I- I think I left, uhh," he rushed one hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "I left a pencil," he called through his door. "It's a 3H pencil, I use it to sketch, I really need it. Can I come look for it?" Lies. The lie rolled off his tongue so easily. What was he supposed to do- tell Shiro to let him in because he couldn't sleep? Because he felt lonely? No way in hell.

Not even when he caught the faint scent of weed through the door did he change his mind. He liked being with Shiro, not like he'd admit to it. "I'll be like- like a second at the most. Can I come take a look for it? And- And I know you're smoking in there so don't say no because of that." He kept his eyes on the floor as he leant against the doorframe. He really wanted Shiro to open up.

He'd even put in the effort to pull on sweatpants instead of visiting in his boxers again.

Shiro had been half asleep when he heard Lance's calls. He had reached his goal—five whole blunts in one easy sitting. He had curled up on his mattress, giggling to himself as smoke curled about the ceiling above him, hoping to drift off into a deep sleep. Lance's voice, however, stirred him from the thinner layer of slumber he'd been happily buried under. He pushed up from the bed with a groan, blinking groggily as he listened to the barely incomprehensible pleads Lance whined about from the hall. Shiro waited until it was silent outside his bedroom before he pushed himself to a wobbly stand, and stumbled his high way towards the door.

It took him a few seconds to unlock it, and then another few to properly turn the handle. He pulled the door open, spotted Lance standing by the doorframe, and offered a great, idiotic grin. "Laaaance," he drawled warmly. Shiro took a step forward, but he stumbled and tripped. He caught himself on Lance's shoulder, and proceeded to wrap his arm around the ex-officer's torso, hoping to balance himself. "Hey, man... I hope you don't mind... I... I was feeling like shit so I got high. It helped, I guess. I... I'm so fuckin' high..."

Lance tensed under his touch before wrapping both arms back around him. He was still hesitant and a little awkward but had succeeded nonetheless. He pressed into Shiro's chest, a delicate smile on his lips.

"I think you should lie down," he said softly as he stepped inside and clicked the door shut behind him. He guided Shiro to the bed and brought him to sit down, moving onto the bed. "Are you tired?" he asked, keeping his voice soft as he lay down, waiting for Shiro to lie beside him.

"Fuck yeah," Shiro slurred. "I'm tired. I- remember... remember when I said I was gonna nap? I lied. I got high... but- pft- I already said that..."

His hand was still on Lance's shoulder, and Lance's arms were still sort of around him... his hands at least. They were still on Shiro's arm, gently tugging at him to lie down. Lance's hold felt good against his bare skin — the warmth of his touch wasn't buffered by a shirt. Shiro laid back and leaned closer to him, pressing his head on Lance's shoulder. He breathed in Lance's smell and sighed, smiling. It was a nice smell.

Lance coaxed his fingers through Shiro's hair. The intimacy of their closeness brought a little heat to his cheeks but nothing too much. It wasn't like Shiro was being overly affectionate, after all. Just a little cuddly.

"You're not mad at me... for lying, right? That would suck... you were mad at me last night... I fuckin' hated that, man..."

"No, I'm not," Lance promised delicately as he brought Shiro to lie down. His gaze scanned him for a moment. He hadn't quite realise how muscular Shiro was. Well- he'd realised, he just hadn't seen it. And fuck, it was a sight to see. Nonetheless, pushing his flustered thoughts back, he shifted so that he was lying on Shiro's chest with his eyes gently closed. "I'm not mad," he continued, his voice quieter now as his hand settled on Shiro's chest, his fingertips running circles just below his collarbones.

Shiro felt as though he could melt at Lance's fingers running up and down his chest. His fingertips were so delicate and soft against the roughness of his scars. So warm against the chill of his own skin.

"Nice," Shiro said in a deep hum, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. After awhile, he spoke again, just letting thoughts roll from his tongue. "If you want to hit me back, you can... take your best fuckin' swing man. I deserve it. Just... just like sock me in the face or somethin', alright?" Lance laughed a little, looking up at the male with a fond smile.

"Nah," he said softly, reaching up to cup Shiro's cheek and brush his thumb over his cheekbone. "I'd rather not. I don't want to." He closed his eyes a little, glad that the pencil hadn't been brought up again. He'd not admit to lying about it to spend time with Shiro and he wasn't exactly sure how to bullshit his way out of it.

"What's it like?" he asked after a few moments of silence. "Being high?"

Shiro offered a huff of laughter. "It's so great... ohhh it's so great," he said, shaking his head a little. "Personally... I like getting high. Breathin' in that smoke... holdin' it in your chest... letting everything go..." Shiro imitated a long sigh, giggling a little. "It's like you're letting all that bad shit go. Like... that negative shit you got goin' on? Just blow it away. No Zarkon. No Sendak. No stress. Just me an' the smoke... That's why I like it so much better than coke n' stuff. With that you get all excited and dumb... with weed you're just... chilled out, man."

Shiro leaned up a little, and looked down at Lance. He gave a slick smile. "You wanna try some? I'll roll you a quick blunt... that is if you're not already high from all this shit in my room." Shaking his head, Lance pressed into Shiro's neck a little.

"Nah, I'd, uhh, I'd rather not. I'd much rather just be sober. I'm not really a fan of the whole drugs thing. Thanks, though," he mumbled as he avoided looking at Shiro. He just wasn't really a fan of the idea of getting high. He'd gotten enough of it from being in the same apartment as Shiro when he got high, he'd rather not take any further steps.

Not yet, anyway. Maybe next time. You never really knew.

Shiro laughed again, but he didn't pressure him. Instead, he settled back down into the naked mattress, and wrapped one of his heavy arms around Lance. Shiro hugged him close, just wanting —no, needing — the comfort of touch. He breathed in Lance's smell some more, his eyes closed just gently.

He could feel himself drifting off to sleep. He could feel his consciousness being dragged further down into the depths of slumber, everything becoming mush as his mind muddled into sleep. There was something he wanted to ask, however. Something on the top of his tongue he wanted to force out before he'd drift into dreams. It took him a few tries, but he managed to get control of his tired lips and his tired jaw, and Shiro spoke.

"Why do we keep doing this?" He asked weakly into Lance's neck. Shiro didn't quite know if Lance had been awake or not. He hoped he was. "Why... why do I keep waking up next to you? We're not in love... you're not my boyfriend... we weren't even fuckin' friends even a week ago... but... but it keeps happening... why?"

Lance had dozed off for about an hour before waking up, then just lying there while he'd waited for Shiro.

He'd been thinking the same question for... god knows how long. He glanced up at Shiro and only offered a weak raising and dropping of his shoulders. A lazy, passive 'I don't know'. He'd rather not speak up and risk saying the wrong thing. The idea that he might accidentally upset Shiro filled him with such overpowering anxiousness that he couldn't bring himself to speak.

Shiro nodded, turning his gaze up to the ceiling. "Maybe it's because you remind me of Adam," he said quietly. There was a slick beat of silence after that — he could feel Lance tense beside him at the comment. Shiro continued though, too high to care. "It's not like I wanna date you or anything... you're just... like him I guess. Maybe that makes me more comfortable with you. I don't know..." After a few more moments of quiet, Shiro felt a bite of panic against the thick glaze of his high. "That made you uncomfortable, didn't it? Shit man... sorry. I'm not thinkin' straight right now..."

"It's okay," Lance managed to croak out after a few minutes. "I just- I don't know. I like being here, with you, because I don't spend any time alone," he mumbled. "I mean- I used to live in a huge house with my whole family. When I moved, I spent most of my time out and with friends or I slept at Hunk's. Suddenly it's either being with you or being alone. I can't stand being alone, so my only option is to be with you. Not that I'm complaining! You're really nice. I enjoy your company more than I did with most people I worked with but it's- I don't know."

Lance curled up a little, pulling back slightly. "I don't know. Forget it."

Shiro liked Lance's answer. It made his head buzz and his heart warm. His intellectual brain denied Lance's You're really nice. Yeah, sure. I enjoy your company. Of course you do Lance. Shiro's high, gushy mushy brain, however, got the better of him. He thinks I'm nice. He likes to hang out with me. Hell, he felt as though he'd been a crushing schoolgirl in that instant.

"Already forgotten," Shiro hummed, smiling. "High, remember?" Lance smiled a little. It was weak and it didn't reach his eyes but it was a smile nonetheless. He just kept his arms wrapped around Shiro.

Figuring that they needed a new conversation topic, Lance spoke up again.

"What's the plan? With my relocation. Have you figured anything else out for that?" he began tracing shapes on Shiro's skin again, running his fingers along each scar as if tracing a pattern, as if memorising each mark left on his body. It was a tale of tragedy on its own, the scars. Untold stories of secret violence and death were all left as permanent marks on Shiro's skin.

Lance loved them.

Shiro, most likely, did not.

"I don't know... I need to write it all down..." Shiro said softly, shaking his head. "I was thinking maybe Tennessee... I told you that, right? Because the tax is so low... Out of country would be better but..." He trailed off to yawn. "I don't have the money. Zarkon is docking my pay a little 'cuz of my fuckup. Mm, yeah... Tennessee or maybe even Florida... depends how much heat you can handle..." Lance smiled a little.

"Whichever is an easier option for you," he said softly as he pressed a little closer. "I'm not going to be fussy. You're already doing plenty for me. Hell, not killing me was plenty. This is above and beyond." He continued running his fingers through Shiro's hair. It was soft. Still a little damp, but nice.

Shiro made a sort of psh sound, and pawed the air. "I'll figure it out," he mumbled. "I always figure it out..."

He was falling asleep again, only now, he accepted it. Shiro presses himself as close as he could to Lance, and hugged him. "There were leftovers, right?" He slurred, speaking as though he'd been talking in his sleep. "I'm... I'm gonna have the munchies..." Laughing softly, Lance nodded.

"Quite a lot," he said softly. "You bought a shit ton of tacos and then barely ate one," he said as he curled up, shifting a little closer. "Is there anything else that we need to do?" he asked as he kept one arm wrapped around him. "I'm not used to spending days lazing around."

"Nah..." Shiro hummed. "Zarkon's done with me for the day... I don' got nothing to do... you don' got nothing to do... lets just chill out for a few... We fuckin' deserve it."

Shiro didn't let himself hear Lance's response -- if the ex-officer responded at all. The moment he finished speaking, he let his sleepiness take over, and promptly passed out. He'd been snoring, a bit noisily from his high, in a matter of seconds, feeling comfortable and warm against Lance's hold.

Lance wasn't awake much longer. He finally dozed off after a few minutes, arms wrapped around Shiro and his head on his chest, succumbing to his sleepiness and letting his mind drift off to fictional fantasies and whatever else had plagued him enough to fill his dreams.

He woke up late the following morning. Later than he'd mean to, anyway. Usually he woke up with enough time to make breakfast for himself and Shiro but he must have been too exhausted.

His eyes flickered up to Shiro, testing to see if he was awake or not. If he was, he'd ask what they should do about breakfast. His stomach grumbled a little- he was hungry so he'd have to make something soon.

Shiro had been awake -- though just barely. He'd been a sort of half awake. Shiro knew where he was and, differing from the past few mornings, knew who he was with with a sure confidence, but his eyes stayed closed, and his body remained listeless. He didn't quite feel like dealing with it all, he supposed. To go through the same situation he'd been going through time and time again whenever he'd wake up beside Lance in bed. Shiro just wanted to lay there, even if he had been hungry and even if he had still felt wrong about letting himself touch Lance the way he'd been just then, and he didn't want to deal with it. He didn't even want to know what time it was or how long he had been in bed -- though he could tell it was quite a long while with that thick drowsiness a float in his head.

So, Shiro kept his eyes closed, even when he felt the soft nudging from Lance's hand on his shoulder. He pretended he was in the soundest of sleeps rather than his odd state of half consciousness. Of course, he was lying again... if it could count as lying. It still gave him that pinch of guilt.

Sighing a little, assuming Shiro to be asleep, Lance shifted closer. He rested in his neck for a short while, perhaps only a minute or two, before pulling back. He needed to start on breakfast.

"Uhh," he pushed himself off of the bed, having to awkwardly direct his body over Shiro's- involving an incredibly awkward period of straddling him while he untangled his foot from a blanket- before settling on the floor. "Okay, okay, so... breakfast. Break-fast-" he mumbled to himself as he fixed the blanket over Shiro as if a mother tending to a sick child. "What could I make? I could try waffles. I don't think I've done waffles. I'll be like a housewife-" he smiled as he mumbled, running through a few scenes involving himself and Shiro in that kind of a situation, occasionally giggling.

When he had finally gotten a grip and was no longer lusting over a domestic life, he combed through his hair with his fingers to tame it and started to the door.

"Waffles," he mumbled decisively. "Waffles with fruits, if we have some, and... some juice. That'll be a simple enough breakfast," he continued. The door opened and was pulled shut but didn't quite close, giving Black room to slip in and leap onto the bed.

She settled on Shiro's chest, curled in into a ball and occasionally nudging his chin.

Lance returned after around twenty-five minutes. The radio played some pop music quietly in the background, the smell of waffles lingering around the room as Lance crept inside. He set the tray down on a clear space on Shiro's bedside table.

"Hey, Shiro?" he called gently, brushing through some of the male's hair in a vain effort to fix it. "Hey, wake up~! I brought waffles. I figured that you wouldn't be feeling too good after smoking so much so I brought water and juice for whichever you're in the mood for." He settled on the edge of the bed beside Shiro, petting Black a couple of times before lifting her off of Shiro's chest and setting her on his lap so that the male could sit up.

Shiro stirred, finally waking up enough to open his eyes. He'd been in and out of his feeling of half-consciousness throughout the time Lance cooked breakfast — he had smelled the scent of waffles and he heard Lance's quiet mumbles to himself the whole way through.

After a bit of deciding, Shiro figured Lance didn't need to know that.

He pushed up from the bed, rubbing at his eyes. He brought his prosthetic down to absently pet the purring Black, rubbing behind her ears and such. "You didn't have to do that..." he slurred, yawning. Shiro stomach grumbled in protest. He nudged Black from his lap and placed his steaming plate of waffles upon his legs instead. "Not that I'm complaining- I'm starved, man." Lance smiled slightly. He took his own plate and was sitting happily on the edge of the bed as he began eating the waffles. They were pretty damn good, he hoped Shiro would like them.

Today they had no plans. Again. It was getting a little boring, not having anything to do. Lance felt like a housecat, like Black, where the only thing he had to provide him with any form of entertainment was Shiro. It wasn't the best way to live.

"It's only fair that I do something to help. If that's waking you up with breakfast and preparing you dinner, then so be it."

Shiro smirked, his second bite of waffle already in his mouth. He figured he just had to say something— he couldn't quite help it. "Like a housewife?" He asked slyly, letting a twinkle of knowing sparkle in his eyes when he looked back towards Lance, who had gone quite red at that statement alone.

"I- Fuck off," he said upon turning redder and redder. "Don't tell me that you heard all that." His entire face felt warm by now and he was absolutely mortified. He hadn't meant to have Shiro hear any of his murmuring, especially not anything about being Shiro's housewife.

He really ought to stop thinking out loud all of the time.

Shiro gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head a little. "I was half asleep, barely lucid," he assured, still smiling. "Forgot most of what you said... or did I?" Shiro offered a wink with that last bit, trying to pull some more hue from Lance's flushed cheeks.

It succeeded, as Lance was suddenly so warm that he could have combusted right there and then. Takashi Shirogane was shirtless, with messy hair, and had just winked at him.

He was torn between wanting to sleep in Shiro's room more and wishing that he had never slept there in the first place.

"How's your breakfast?" he blurted in an attempt to divert the attention off of his easily-flustered state and onto something that couldn't be used against him to make him blush- hopefully.

Shiro laughed sleepily again, and took another bite of his waffle. "Good," he said, the single word garbled through his full mouth. "Everything you cook is good. It's almost infuriating."

"Ah, I've had practice."

"I don't know, maybe it's because I'm high. Sorta. I might have some left over in my system," Shiro rambled, shrugging, still eating. "I had like... five whole blunts. My best is six in one afternoon — small ones. With big ones it's only like four. I'm not that good at smoking. Keith is, though..." Shiro paused, realizing just how much he'd been talking. "Sorry... I get fuckin' chatterbox-y morning after a smoking night. Usually it's Keith who has to deal with it." Lance laughed softly, shaking his head.

"It's nice," he admitted with a delicate smile. "Really, it is. I like having you talk. It gives me something other than mindless drivel or the radio to listen to. And I kinda want to know more about you, having been living with you for weeks at this point."

Shiro tilted his head forward and cocked his brow. "You want to know more about me?" He asked slowly, in a rather sarcastic drawl. Shiro took another bite. It was beginning to look like he was actually going to finish his meal. "Like you don't know everything already. You're basically all caught up on the trials and tribulations of Takashi Shirogane. What else do you want to know? My favorite color or some shit?" Lance flushed a little and looked away, puffing his cheeks out a little.

"Dunno," he mumbled. "Who exactly is Keith, though?" he asked after a few moments, his eyes fixed on Shiro for a few moments before he turned his gaze to the floor. "Can you tell me about that or is there some reason not to?" He was just a little curious. Keith had come over a few times and after reading the texts, it had kinda bugged him.

"Keith? Oh, well..." Shiro trailed off, thinking. "We went to school together. I actually got him into my school — it was some private preppy school, you know?" Shiro paused a second, his eyes drifting over to his graduation photo, hidden by that painting Lance had done. He shook his head and continued. "He got in for football — we were the quarterback receiver duo. He was always jealous of Adam. Had the biggest crush on me. We lost touch after we graduated, but turned out we both got involved with the same bad crowd, and we met up after I came back from overseas. When the whole Adam thing happened... he, uh, helped me out a lot. Then we started uhh... you know. The whole friends with benefits thing. Sex is therapeutic, I guess."

Lance watched him for a few moments before shrugging and nodding.

"Yeah, sounds like it," he murmured. "I mean, I've never had sex, so I dunno," he said, cheeks still pink with the earlier information but deepening at the realisation that he'd actually just admitted to being a virgin. He'd never really been in relationships because he'd been focused on work, and the ones he had been in had never gone on long enough for him to want intimacy like that.

He wasn't the 'friends with benefits' type. He didn't like the idea of a one night stand, either. Hopelessly romantic, he'd just hope he could find a relationship wherever he was kicked out to.

Shiro's eyes widened. "You're a virgin?" He asked in a mocking tone. Upon seeing Lance's deeper blush, Shiro shook his head and rose his hand up a little.. "I-fuck, sorry. That was blunt." Lance flushed a dark red. He looked away shyly and nodded.

"Uh, yeah, I- I am. Never really got close enough to anyone to have sex," he said with still reddening cheeks. "So I never actually had sex. Dunno- it's- it's kinda embarrassing." He fell silent finally and stood, stretching a little with his arms over his head yet again. "I'm gonna clean up. Are- Are you done eating breakfast?"

Shiro pushed his plate towards Lance, nodding. He had done fairly well — he'd eaten a little over half his plate. "Yeah, yeah, I guess," he said. "If it makes you feel any better, I was a nerd once, too. Lost my V-card around twenty-ish like a fuckin' loser. Adam and I wanted to wait until high school was over."

He stretched, and then reached an arm to scratch his bare back. Shiro blinked a little and looked down at himself, before flicking his embarrassed gaze back up to Lance. "I should probably get a shirt on anyways," he muttered sheepishly. Shiro slipped off of the bed, rubbed he back of his neck, and began his hunt for a shirt to wear. He found one of his muscle tees strewn lazily upon the floor, and reached for it. It would do.

Lance tore his eyes off of Shiro when he stood (lest he be seen ogling him) and had gotten out of the bedroom shortly after in order to go to the kitchen and clean up. He washed the plates, scrubbing and cleaning them before setting them on the dryer, Blue trotting through and yapping at him. Lance prepared her breakfast and set it on the floor, shutting her up immediately. Black's food was set on the floor shortly after and the a soft jingle sounded from her bell as she leapt off of the bed and trotted to the kitchen for her dinner.

Lance sighed and slumped against the counter, putting his head in his hands.

First sharing a bed, then the whole 'Leonardo' shit, then dealing with Shiro when he was drunk and when he was high, then the housewife mockery, now talking about their sex lives- what next? He'd gotten so flustered with such ease that it would be a miracle of he survived whatever the next step was.

Shiro left out into the living room, not really knowing what to do. His cut was beginning to itch beneath his bandages, that tickle of healing tingling his entire right cheek in an irritating buzz. Shiro rubbed at it absently, figuring he'd have to re-do the dressing later.

He gave a long sigh and plopped down into the couch. Shiro tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. "How's your eye?" Shiro called to Lance in the kitchen. "You should probably ice it again. To keep the swelling down."Lance nodded.

"I'll do that now," he said, taking a dish towel and wrapping up some ice with it to place over his bruised eye. "It still hurts but I've gotten to a point of being able to ignore it," he said, a small smile upon his lips. "And how are your knuckles? They were really badly busted up when I last saw them."

Shiro frowned and held out his hand. Those bandages were older and dirtier — ripped and falling apart. He peeled them off, shrugging his shoulder. "They're fine. I mean, I get them messed up all the time," Shiro said, running his eyes along the dark scabs marking up and down his fist. "It's all mostly from Kolivan anyways. Almost healed, I guess." Lance nodded.  
"If you're sure, then I'll trust you. You know more about it than I do," he said with a small shrug, pushing himself up to sit on the counter. "Is there anything else that I must do? I need to do something. I can't just sit around- I'm not good at doing nothing."

"You could just turn on the TV for me because I don't feel like getting up," Shiro hummed smartly, casting Lance a slick grin. He scooted over to the left, and patted at the cushion beside him. "And maybe relax for a bit. Put some popcorn in the microwave if I've got any. Let's just sit down and watch a movie or something. Jesus. Your hair is gonna be whiter than mine soon."

Laughing softly, Lance rummaged around for a pack of popcorn he'd seen while organising the cupboards. He took it out and put it into the microwave, leaving that to cook while he went to the living room. He turned on the television and settled into a corner of the couch beside Blue, who had gotten quite comfy when she'd finished eating.

He soon settled for Cinderella, a film he had a soft spot for after watching it with younger siblings so much.

"Is this one okay?" he called to Shiro as he got up, going to his room to get the blanket from his bed. If he was going to watch any film with Shiro, he'd do it properly. With blankets and snacks and Blue curled up on his lap.

Shiro narrowed his eyes, cocking his head. It took him a few moments to place the film. "Cinderella? It's a kids movie," Shiro said, rolling his eyes. He smiled, nonetheless. "I mean, I fuckin' guess. I could fall asleep again. As long as I get to hold the pop-corn."

"I- I can change the film if you want," mumbled Lance upon dumping the blanket on the couch, about to go back to the menu and scroll through films again when the faint and almost unnoticeable sound of a key turning in a lock got his attention. He tensed as his eyes snapped to the door.

The handle was twisting and Lance bolted to his room, the door wide open but he didn't get any time to close it before the front door swung open and slammed shut.

"Takashi!" Shouted Keith, who was very much drunk. He must have had a pretty shit time if he'd not even tried coping by getting high and instead had taken to drinking. And in his hand was an almost empty bottle. "You're not fucking avoiding me anymore! Ignoring m-my fucking texts, refusing to talk to me- I'm sick of it! We're talking right here and right fucking now!"

He drained the rest of the bottle and slammed it down a the counter just inside the kitchen as he moved to the living room. He didn't spare a glance to the dog on the couch or the film on the television. He didn't even pause when the microwave began beeping. Now that he was able to be seen, it was clear what kind of a state he was in. Red, puffy eyes, bloodshot, a hoarse throat, his face flushed with emotion- he'd been crying. Even with his hostile tone and angry words, he was sad. He seemed defeated.

Shiro stood up quickly, his flicking to Lance's very open door before turning back towards Keith. He was a mess — disheveled clothing, messed, greasy hair, red, tearful eyes. Shiro almost couldn't find his words, flinching at the heavy thwack of the bottle as it slammed against the counter. He rose his hands up a little taking a soft step backwards. Shiro fished for something to say.

"Woah, woah, Keith," he said anxiously. "What the hell? What's the deal?"

"Don't act like you don't fucking know! Sendak's being running his damn mouth and you have a boyfriend!" He said, his voice getting louder but faltering when he mentioned Shiro's relationship. "Some fucker called Leonardo or something!" 'Or something' as if it wasn't the only thing he'd been thinking of. He'd only spent the afternoon getting drunk and checking to see if anyone within an hour of Shiro's apartment went by that name.

He took a stumbled step or to toward Shiro. "You just don't think I'm good enough! You didn't want to date me because you were getting over Adam and now you're over him and I'm still not who you want to be with!" He slammed his fists into Shiro's chest, shoving him hard. "Fuck you! Fuck you for lying to me! Fuck you for going and dating some fucker I don't even know! You used to tell me everything, Shiro! You'd tell me the little things and the biggest fucking secrets you had! You'd tell me that you slept with a cuddly toy because after Adam died, you couldn't sleep alone! You told me that that was why you got Black, so you wouldn't be alone in the apartment! You didn't tell anyone else!" He threw a clumsy fist at Shiro, trying to vent his anger, his frustration. He needed to get this off of his chest.

Shiro just dodged Keith's sloppy punch, stumbling backwards and almost tripping himself over the couch. It seemed as though his legs were jelly — his legs were jelly and his head was light and his mind was pounding. Oh no, oh no, oh no was his minds frantically repeated mantra. He had messed up — oh shit Shiro had messed up so bad. How could he have forgotten about Keith? How could the fact Keith and Sendak regularly spoke just cross Shiro's mind? Oh God how he had been so stupid!

Shiro only got the first sounds of an angered 'hey!' past his lips before Keith started yelling again, having taken another clumsy step or two closer.

"I was the one person who vouched for your innocence! I put my neck on the line by insisting that you'd not done anything wrong! Zarkon threatened to cut my tongue off if I didn't stop- and I still insisted you were innocent! You spoke to me all of the fucking time and then, suddenly, I tell you one thing and I no longer matter to you! I don't even care that you don't love me! I just- I just wanted you back!" He choked up, his words getting harder and harder to say like he didn't want to say them, they just came out. He didn't want to be admitting all of this to Shiro. He got high to avoid feeling the weight of all of this. The one day that he wasn't high, the one day he was determined to try to be sober, was the day he found out about Shiro's apparent boyfriend.

Shiro was at a loss of words again. He took another step backwards, not wanting to be shoved again, and held out his hands. He shook his head a little, an earnest grimace plastered about his features. "Keith- I. Shit, man, it's not what you think. I swear- I... I don't know how to explain it, but I didn't lie." Shiro's voice was desperate, but it was soft. He didn't like how the gentleness of his voice juxtaposed with the loud ferocity of the raging drunk Keith before him. "Keith, come on, buddy. Sit down. Calm down. You're drunk. You know how much you mean to me. I wouldn't lie to you about that." Shiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt just about exasperated. "Just- There's no other guy, Keith. There's no one else. I-"

"Stop fucking lying to me!" he suddenly shouted. "I'm sick of it! I'm sick of your lying and your tempting promises when it turns out to all be bullshit! I know how much I mean to you- I don't mean shit! I'm more worthless to you than your fucking cat!" Keith's hands were shaking, curled into fists. "Whenever I brought up to you that I didn't feel like I mattered, you'd either ghost me or brush it off with some shitty compliment! I'm sick of meaning nothing to you but still being wrapped around your fucking finger and coming to you at your every call! I'm tired of only being worth sex and weed!" And then the waterworks came, tears beginning to spill down Keith's cheeks. "I-If I'm worth so little to you, just spit it out! Don't make me run around in circles, trying to find feelings that aren't there!"

Shiro had been trembling. He almost felt afraid... afraid of what? He couldn't quite tell. Keith's confrontations had been shaking him to his very core, but Shiro couldn't quite find out why. But his face had paled and his mouth was dry. His back crawled with chills, and his stomach tightened with discomfort. Quickly, for the smallest little instant, Shiro's mind flashed to his fight with Lance. Lance's face. Lance's fear.

Lance, Lance, Lance...

"Keith," Shiro said breathlessly, not really knowing what he was going to follow up with. "Keith... Jesus... no you're... you're my best friend. I wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for you. I-" He stopped himself, groaning. Shiro lifted his hand to his head, the impending migraine already feeling like hell. "Look, the Leonardo thing isn't- I... I can't really explain it. Just... it's not real, okay? Please, you have to trust me. I told Sendak that- I lied to him to get him off my case about something. I can't really explain it all — it's big shit. I don't want to get you in trouble, too, man."

He offered a hand. "Come on, Keith. Sit down. I'll help you sober up or something. Just... just calm down, okay?" Keith's teary eyes flickered from Shiro to his hand. He'd have half a mind to punch Shiro and storm out but- but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He just wrapped his arms around Shiro's waist tightly. He trembled in his hold, all the anger fading from his system in a second and instead just being replaced with previously-repressed sorrow. He broke down into a fit of sobs, gripping to Shiro's shirt and hiding his face in his chest. He already hated himself for submitting to Shiro's offer so quickly.

Shiro tensed under Keith's hug, half expecting the gesture to be some sort of lunge or another shove. However, upon realizing he'd been embraced rather than attacked, Shiro gave a soft sigh and relaxed. He wrapped on arm around Keith, and let his other hand run through Keith's hair, untangling the greasy matted locks with his fingers. He felt Keith begin his heavy episode of sobbing, and rubbed a soft circle about Keith's back.

Of course, Shiro felt as awkward as he always did in the presence of tears. However, he stood through it, rubbing Keith's back and playing with his hair. Shiro stayed silent, not really knowing what to say or how to say it. He just bit he inside of his cheek, and tried to keep from wondering how Lance was reacting.

He tried and he tried to keep Lance off of his mind. Keith didn't deserve that.

Keith broke away shortly and rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. "I really fucking hate you sometimes, Shiro," he muttered sharply. "I'm gonna- I'm gonna go and drink some more, I think." His voice was quieter now, hushed with the awareness of his defeat. "Or I'll get high. I don't know. I don't really care. I- I'll see you at work. I might see you at work." He managed to drag himself away from Shiro and instead began wandering to the door, his feet only barely keeping underneath him. He just wanted to collapse somewhere. He needed to pass out until he was a little more sober.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Shiro asked weakly, getting no response.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking of Lance in the other room, who was curled up in his hiding space by the drawers and the desk, his knees brought up to his chest.

Shiro shook his head and started again, louder and more firm. "At least let me walk home with you. You... you shouldn't be alone. You could hurt yourself."

"I got here fine, I'll get home fine," he called over his shoulder, fumbling with the door for a moment before tugging it open. "I think... I think I want to be on my own now."

Shiro watched him leave, wondering if he should have said something. Nothing left his lips. Instead, the door was pulled to a close with a deep thump behind the red faced Keith, and the apartment descended into the thickest silence. Even with the television going, and even with the occasional beeping of the microwave, and even with the whines of Blue, frightened by the rageful yelling, the apartment was a heavy sort of quiet. Shiro felt as though it could drive him mad.

He blinked, swallowing hard. Shiro couldn't quite tell just how bad that entire interaction was. How bad it was for their friendship... how bad it was for Shiro's secret... how bad it was for Lance, who'd likely been huddled up in the guest room, wondering about everything he had just heard.

Shiro's stomach sizzled with paranoia, his chest clenching in on itself. He suddenly felt as though he'd been losing a grip on everything. As though it had all just been a handful of sand enclosed in his fist, leaking through the spaces between his fingers, spilling off into a desert of problems. No matter how desperately Shiro would grasp, it would all fall away from him. It all did — everything.

Everything.

Sendak was blabbing about Leonardo to what seemed like everyone. Keith was mistaking Shiro's dissociation with lazy hate. Keith knew that Leonardo was a lie, and could drunkenly run his emotional mouth to anyone he felt fitting to hear. Zarkon knew something was wrong with Shiro. Shiro wasn't making money fast enough for Lance. His cut itched and his knuckles stung. Lance's cheek was still broken. Shiro's sheets were still in the dryer. His remote was still broken. The popcorn in the microwave had gone cold.

Every grain of sand slipped away, and Shiro suddenly felt as though he could scream.

"Lance," he called, feeling numb. "It's safe. You can come out now."

Lance's arms wrapped around Shiro from behind when he had left his room. He held him tight, keeping close to him, trying desperately to attempt to comfort him. He pulled away after a moment and took Shiro's hand as he moved, standing in front of him.

"That sounded... pretty shitty," he murmured softly as he looked up at Shiro. "I-I suppose that movies are off the table now," he then muttered, glancing to the floor and kicking his feet a little. He wanted to help- he always wanted to help- but he never knew how to. What exactly was he supposed to do? He caused more inconveniences than anything else. He really shouldn't have been brought here. It was only making life harder for Shiro to have him here.

Shiro shook his head. He tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "You can still watch. Popcorn's in the microwave. I have to go get my sheets. They're still downstairs," he muttered, letting his eyes drift to his hand.

The one Lance held.

"I... I think I'm gonna call Sendak and ask him to find me a job for tonight. Next two nights, maybe. Things are getting too dangerous. It's all falling apart. You need to get going soon..." Gently, Shiro pulled his hand away from Lance. He turned away. "I'll get the money. I'll give you some of my personal stuff, too. I think you should leave before next week. It's just safer that way. For the both of us."

Shiro's tone was weak. He couldn't tell if what he was saying was mean or not. Get out of my apartment. Was that what he sounded like? You're going to ruin everything. Oh, God. He hoped he didn't sound like that. Shiro put a hand up to his head and absently wiped at his eyes. They were wet with rising tears. He desperately tried to blink them away.

Lance's eyes widened a little. He took a step back, wrapping his arms around himself. He nodded.

"Yeah," he mumbled, not sure why Shiro's words had stung. "It-It'd be for the best." He moved away, going to the kitchen. He took the bag of popcorn and his blanket from the living room, turning off the television before going to his room.

He wasn't really in the mood for a film anymore. He just wanted to curl up in bed and eat popcorn.

Blue dashed into the room before he could shut the door and Lance offered a small smile. Finally, someone who would stay with him through thick and thin. She loved him. She wanted to be around him. It wasn't like anyone else did.

Shiro kicked on his shoes and went downstairs to the laundry room. His sheets were tossed haphazardly into some random laundry basket by the hotel employees — they must have gotten tired of his bedspread just sitting and taking up on of the three dryers of the building. Shiro collected the basket of wrinkled sheets, gave a dark look at the lady by the desk, and went back upstairs.

He threw his sheets on the bed and didn't bother to make them up. Instead, he groped for his work phone, the scowl he had given the woman downstairs still present and burning upon his face. He felt dirty. He felt dark. Shiro clicked upon Sendak's contact, and sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting as it rung.

A tired "hello" greeted him.

"Hey, Senny," Shiro muttered. He sounded angry... he sounded mean. He didn't really know why. "I need jobs. And I need 'em now. Shoot. Do you need me to sell shit? To kill someone? To meet someone? Come on. Give me somethin'."

"Well shit. Who are you and what have you done with Kuro?" Came the sarcastic drawl. "Since when do you want to work?"

"Zarkon cut my pay. I need money," Shiro said with an empty laugh. It was a harsh sort of laughter. It made his skin crawl. "Come on. Give me something."

"Should think twice before spending all that money on your cat, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up," Shiro snapped darkly. "Just give me a job."

"Well... there's a nasty job I was given. I'll get you double pay if you promise to take care of it for me."

Shiro hummed. "What's that?"

"Another officer, but this one's got a family. A wife and a kid. You take care of him, and you take care of them." Sendak's voice was cautious. "Didn't want to do it — not one for takin' care of kids. But I know you aren't either. Is it yours, or do you want me to bare another stain on my conscious."

Shiro stayed silent. He was silent for a good, long while. "How much is the pay?" He asked, feeling almost out of control of his body.

"Enough to buy a fuckin' house, man," Sendak joked. "Literally. Plus with that double, you'd be pretty solid. I was gonna use it to get a new car, but I've got four, and you could use a good move out of that shit-hole you live in."

There was a long pause.

Enough to buy a house.

"I'll take it. Send me the information. I'll get it done tonight."

Shiro's tone was dark. Menacing. Full of a deep vileness Shiro could not quite understand in that moment. It didn't sound like him. He couldn't achieve that sort of tone from even yelling and screaming at Lance. He couldn't achieve that sort of tone from even taunting Haxus or Kolivan on those jobs. He couldn't sound like that on even his most terrible days. Shiro couldn't achieve that sort of tone. Never.

Because that wasn't Shiro.

That was Kuro talking.


	16. Sendak

Lance was in bed.

He'd not moved from the bed since he'd gotten to his room. Not even when the door opened and closed, not even when he heard the footsteps as Shiro came in, nothing. He couldn't bring himself to move. He'd finished the popcorn and pushed the empty bag off of his bed, his face buried in Blue's fur as he lay there.

He needed comfort and she was the only person who could provide.

He didn't move from the door opening and closing. He couldn't bring himself to get up. He didn't want to see Shiro right now and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Hopefully Shiro would just assume he was asleep, even as Blue squirmed out of the bed and used her nose to open the door enough to squeeze out. She was happy to see Shiro. She was happy to see anyone.

 

Lance lifted his head and took the pillow from under it to hug that, instead, missing her company even if she'd only been gone for a moment.

It was 3am and Shiro was terrified.

He was utterly stoic and blank as he opened the door to his apartment, and dismal as he closed the door behind him. He fell backwards upon it, and sank down low to the ground, hugging himself.

Shiro's hands were clean. His black clothing was clean. The only bruises and cuts he brandished were the ones he had gotten the few days before. The knives he had brought with him didn't have even the slightest drop of blood. The gun had each and every bullet still nestled safely in its belly. It had not been fired.

He hadn't been able to do it.

Maybe he could have. He didn't know. Maybe if the house had been darker and quiet, he could have. Maybe if the beds weren't empty, rather full of sleeping family members who'd die an easy death, he could have. Maybe if he had closed his eyes and plugged in his ear plugs and just fired away, he could have.

But none of that happened.

It couldn't really have been his fault. Sendak had sent him every bit of information on the quaint little family there was. Shiro knew when they would all fall asleep, and Shiro knew when they would all wake up. He knew about their security systems and he knew about the family cat who slept in the child's room. He knew every knick and cranny of the house — every windowsill that creaked and every floorboard that squeaked. He didn't know that when he would slip into the sliding back door of the kitchen, that he'd hear the television and see lights emitting from the living room.

Of course he had crept forward, a knife held tightly in one hand. He knew how to do that — how to sneak around. Unseen and quiet. He didn't know how to react when he peeked into the living room and found nothing but a little boy playing with spaceships on the carpet, the television blasting some dumb kitty show.

He didn't know how to react when the kid saw him in the reflection of the screen, turned around, and screamed.

Shiro just ran.

So there he was, terrified. Leaned up against his front door, panting and gasping for breath. His side stung, and his lungs ached. His mind was swimming, his vision dancing. The knife had still been clutched in his fist. That spotless knife. The image of the little boy's fear had still been flashing about Shiro's head. That full blown fear. The thought of Sendak and his filthy money and Shiro's filthy answer rang in his ears.

That dumb decision.

The sand was all slipping away. Most of it was gone. All he had were the collect few grains stuck in the creases of his palm to tether to. All he had...

The sniffling of Blue snapped him from his hysterical daze. Shiro casted his eyes over to Lance's closed door, and prayed she wouldn't get out. He didn't want Lance to see him. He didn't want Blue to jump on him. He didn't really know what he wanted... he just... he needed to be alone to figure it out.

Nonetheless, despite Shiro's hoping, the door was successfully opened and Blue came running out, stopping to jump in circles around him. She yapped and barked and her tongue hung out of her mouth as she greeted Shiro. She ran back and forth down the hall before shooting back over to him. Lance covered his face with the blanket in order to drown out her barking. He just wanted to sleep.

Why was it so difficult to sleep lately?

What made it so hard to sleep alone?

Shiro shushed her, not really able to unwrap his desperate hold on his shoulders to pet her. "Blue... please be quiet," he whimpered breathlessly. "You're gonna wake up Lance."

It took him a moment or so to shift his legs so he was on his knees. With hesitation heavy in his system, Shiro reached out a hand. She came up to him and licked at his fingers, quieting down with the satisfaction of her pets.

When he stopped hearing Blue's yapping, Lance finally hauled himself up. He needed a drink- that was why he was getting up. He didn't want to see Shiro. He didn't want to know why he had been out. He was just thirsty.

He trudged to the door. It fell closed behind him. He didn't let his attention turn to Shiro for even a second, staring at the floor as he walked to the kitchen and got himself a glass, filling it with water. He took the empty bottle that Keith had left behind, too, and put it where the rest of the empty bottles were. He didn't say anything. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Shiro to say anything.

Shiro watched Lance from the door, letting his numb fingers run through Blue's fur. He didn't know if he should have said anything. He didn't know if his pitiful spot on the floor required any explanation. He didn't know if Lance required an apology.

He didn't seem to know a lot of things that night.

"I screwed us over."

The words left him. They left him quickly — he didn't have a chance to stop them. The words left him, and then they hung about the air of the apartment like an echo. Back and forth it went.

I screwed us over.

"I'm sorry. I screwed myself over. Shit, Lance. I'm so screwed. We're so screwed. Everyone's fucking screwed."

Lance looked over at him, frowning as he drained his glass.

"What did you do?" he asked eventually, his eyes on Shiro. His eyes flickering to the clean knife and the gun. "Or... didn't do, I'll assume. What were you supposed to do?" Lance didn't seem to mind Shiro's position. He didn't really care, if he was honest. He didn't even ask who texted Shiro when his phone went off. The screen lit up, Sendak's message coming through.

'You failed your job. It's on the news that someone broke in but fled. I'm on my way.'

Shiro felt the vibration and heard the soft ding. He pulled the phone from his pocket and read Sendak's message about seven times. He didn't bother opening up his phone. He just looked at the notification, the world seeming to collapse around at each and every word. Each and every letter and each and every pixel. Again and again, his eyes looped back up to the first word and ran all the way down to the last one.

I'm on my way.

Shiro dropped his phone and brought both his hands to his head. He whimpered again, forgetting about Lance and forgetting about Blue and forgetting about everything. Jesus. Jesus. The kid had seen his face. His break in was on the news. Sendak was coming over and he was coming over soon. Lance was there. The sand continued to fall...

"We have to go," Shiro blurted. "Lance we have to go. I have to go. I messed up. He's coming... I couldn't do it... I couldn't kill him. I couldn't he was just a kid, Lance. He had spaceships. He was watching TV. We have to go-" He was breathless and rambling— he didn't quite know if he was making sense. The sand kept falling. Shiro felt like screaming. Lance moved over. He knelt down beside Shiro, cupping his cheeks, frowning.

"Wh-What do you mean? Who's coming?" he noted Shiro's current state, his panic, and was almost beginning to panic himself. "Shiro, calm down. What's happening? You have to tell me or I can't try and help." He was speaking to him the same way he spoke to his siblings. He was well rehearsed in talking to people when they were in panicked states, like this. He was just hoping it was something he could try and help with.

Shiro shook his head. "Sendak. Sendak's on his way. I messed up my job. The kid saw me... I couldn't kill him... I knew I couldn't but I went anyways. I was desperate and stupid... I just needed the money to protect you," he stuttered, trying to smooth out his words so Lance could understand. "But I fucked up. He's gonna know- he's gonna know something. You have to go." Shiro tensed up, and grabbed Lance's arm. "You have to go, Lance. You have to get somewhere safe."

Lance tugged his arm back after a moment. He opened his mouth to argue when Sendak knocked loudly on the door, hissing for Shiro to open it.

Seeing that there was no time to argue, Lance dashed into Shiro's room and closed the door, leaning against it so that he'd be able to hear what was going on. He glanced around, seeing that there was nothing around he could use to defend himself with. Shit. Shit. He would be in deep shit if Sendak came in for any reason. The only things within reach were: his painting of Shiro, a plastic bag, and Shiro's glasses- none of which were good weapons.

Shiro watched Lance run, his arm outstretched, almost calling out to him to come back. He didn't really want to face Sendak's rage alone. Luckily, he was able to hold his tongue and gather his senses enough to pull through his fear. Trembling like a leaf, Shiro stood, his shaky hand fumbling for the lock. Shiro opened the door, looking up to see the dark stare of Sendak's rageful face.

"Sendak," Shiro murmured, the single word almost like a squeak. "I... I can explain-"

Sendak stepped forward, pushing Shiro backwards with his intimidation factor alone. He slammed the door to a close behind him, stopping Shiro's nervous rebuttals in their tracks. "You said you would take it," he grumbled, his tone gravely — filled with threat.

"I know. I shouldn't have. To be fair you should have known not to offer it to me," Shiro said, trying to toughen up his tone. "You knew I couldn't do it."

"I thought you finally manned the fuck up," Sendak seethed. He was still stepping forward, and Shiro was still stepping backwards. "I heard you said you'd take it and I believed you finally grew up. But you didn't. You're still he husk of a man Zarkon left you as. No mechanical arm or fake confidence can hide that from me. Not anymore."

Shiro shook his head. He had just about been against the wall, Sendak had pressured him so far back. "They were awake, Sen. I couldn't take them all on. You were wrong about-"

"The kid was awake. I watch the fucking news. Don't try and lie to me," Sendak said, looking darkly down towards Shiro. "I've had enough of your shitty lies, asshole."

His throat feeling too dry for his comfort, Shiro swallowed. "When have I lied to you, big guy?" He asked, giving a nervous huff of laughter.

Sendak didn't answer. Rather, he had stopped walking, and reached for his back pocket, his terrifying glare still pressed upon Shiro. Shiro, thinking it had been a gun Sendak was grabbing, poised for action, but found himself in a dumbfounded shock when Sendak tossed something at him. It was long and blue and flimsy. The metal end thumped against Shiro's chest with a bite of pain. Shiro fumbled to keep it from falling, clutching it in his hands.

"What the fuck? You took the leash?" Shiro asked, confusion misting the previous fright in his tone.

"I checked it for prints," Sendak said, stoic. "I did that instead of going on the job that you botched. Figured I'd try and figure out just who that Leonardo figure was."

Shiro paled. His whole body went numb.

Sendak just continued talking. "Instead I found some pretty interesting prints. There was yours, and then there was someone else's. You remember Officer Lance, don't you?" The mention of his name made Lance freeze up. Fuck. Now Sendak had a genuine reason to come hunting him down. Fuck.

"It was his. I... I told you I kept his dog..." Shiro said, his voice returning to its desperation from earlier. "Obviously his prints are on it."

"They're fresh prints, dipshit," Sendak snapped, louder than before. His mighty voice caused Shiro to flinch back against the wall. "I'm not a fucking idiot."

Shiro didn't answer. He was frozen, staring down at the leash that just killed him.

"So, it's not just kids you can't kill, huh? What? Did you have the hots for him? Take 'fuck the police' too literally?" Sendak shot questions like bullets from his quick tongue. "What happened with you? Huh? Why go so soft all of a sudden? Why go and throw away your entire life for this little asshole? Huh? Answer me, Shiro!"

Shiro jumped again, dropping the leash in his sudden shock. His gaze flicked upwards, meeting Sendak's fiery eyes. He tried to back up some more, only able to press himself further against the wall. "I- it's not what you think... Sendak- that's not what-"

Sendak cut him off in a soft tone. "Where is he?" He asked, the quietness of his voice seemingly scarier than his scream. "Where is he, Shiro? Tell me. It'll be easier for you in the end."

Shiro was silent. Just staring in a quiet horror up into Sendak's murderous eyes.

"I sent him away. He's gone. You're too late."

He spoke without thinking. Shiro pushed the words through his lips in a rushed, blurting sort of way. He shook his head a little as he spoke, forcing himself to keep from looking at the hall. To keep from looking at his room...

Sendak slammed his hand on the wall beside Shiro's head. The sharp fingers of his prosthetic sent spiderwebbed cracks up and down about the plaster. Shiro flinched to the side, cringing. He looked for an opening to try an escape, his eyes flicking from place to place, from door to door — desperate.

"The prints were new," Sendak hissed through a clenched set of teeth. "You're out of money. You were desperate for money when you called me. He's somewhere. Where is he?"

Shiro's bottom lip quivered. He thought of Lance cowering away in his room. He thought of how easy it would be for him to just flee if Shiro was taken away. Lance could leave with Blue and maybe Black — flee off down someplace South. He thought maybe, just maybe, Lance would get lucky. Maybe Lance could get away without Shiro. Yeah — that was possible. He could get away. He would be safe.

He didn't need Shiro.

"He's gone," Shiro said harshly, deciding his fate. He straightened up a little. "You're too late. I told you he wasn't-"

He was cut short with his own gasp. Sendak's other hand had moved quickly for Shiro's throat — so quickly Shiro hadn't even seen it coming. Sendak slammed Shiro back against the wall by that hold on his neck. He leaned in close to Shiro's ear.

"Where is he?"

Wildly, Shiro lashed out with his prosthetic — but again, Sendak was too quick. It took one strength filled grab with his own mechanical arm to shut down Shiro's desperate attack. Shiro's arm groaned as Sendak tightened his grip, the metal protesting against its sudden pressure. Shiro yelped at the shock that coursed through his upper bicep.

"He's gone," Shiro managed to croak, his free hand clawing at Sendak's very solid fingers.

He couldn't breathe, Sendak's fingertips dug harshly into the airways of his throat, and they tightened with Shiro's rebellion. Alarms rang in his mind, lights flashed and wiggles before his eyes. His prosthetic was screeching with pressure, metal crackling and wires popping. Shiro's whole system whirled with fright and panic.

"You're either going to tell me, or you're going to tell Zarkon. I assure you, telling me will be far less painful," Sendak threatened, louder than the sparks from Shiro's arm.

Shiro still could barely hear him with all the blood rushing in his ears. He could barely see him with all those colors flashing before his eyes. His desperate tugging at Sendak's hand had weakened, his body faltering with that lack of oxygen. Shiro's eyes fluttered, his vision going a deep red. His lungs were aching in his chest, his throat on fire under Sendak's grasp.

Sendak spoke again, his voice booming.

"Now, where is Lance McClain?"

Shiro tried to answer... but he didn't have the voice...

So someone else had to.

"Right fucking here!" shouted Lance, having managed to creep out of Shiro's room while they'd been arguing, unnoticed. He held the plastic bag tightly in his hands, gritting his teeth. Before Sendak could even turn to see him, he had the bag over the man's head and pulled it tight. Sendak leant back a little, struggling, and Lance wrapped one arm around his throat. He kicked him in the back of the knee, hard, causing his legs to buckle and making him far more vulnerable. He covered his face with his other hand as Sendak grabbed at him, using it to block punches.

He was tense, his breathing quick, panicking a little. He'd never killed anyone before. He'd never gotten as far as deciding how he would kill them and finding the opportune moment to do so. Sendak was going to be his first- and hopefully his only- kill. His eyes were wide and panicked as he brought Sendak closed to himself, gritting his teeth.   
"Sh-Shiro!" he said loudly. "Get his arms! Get his fucking arms!" He wasn't going to be able to keep this up with Sendak's prosthetic gripping onto his arm so hard it felt like it was going to break. He trembled a little, holding tighter to his throat as if having him in a choke hold would increase the speed at which Sendak would die.

Shiro had collapsed upon the ground when Sendak had released his grip. With his good hand he held his throat, coughing and gasping for air. He heard Lance calling him — he heard his name just barely over the roaring of the blood and the hammering of his heart in his ears. He didn't move, though. He remained helpless and weak on the ground. A husk of a man, as Sendak had put it.

Lance could feel Sendak's fingers into his flesh. The fingertips of his prosthetic were sharp and drew blood but still, his hold didn't waver. Lance could hear his the blood rushing in his ears, his head pounding, everything in his system urging him to release Sendak, to not become a murderer, but he still didn't let go.

He had to save Shiro.

He had to save himself.

Eventually, Sendak's struggling became weaker. Then it ceased altogether. Still, Lance held him, the arm around his neck shifting so that he could rest two fingers on his pulse. And he waited.

Until it was gone.

 

Finally, he released him. Sendak's corpse collapsing onto the floor with a loud thud. Panting, Lance took a few steps back from the corpse on the floor. His eyes were wide, his hands trembling. He'd just murdered Sendak. He'd just strangled him for three full minutes and ended his life as a consequence.

Blood was dripping down one arm. The other, the one that had been blocking Sendak's punches, ached and throbbed- it was going to be covered in bruises by the morning.

Lance looked down at Shiro, his eyes wide.

"I killed him, Shiro," he said, voice soft, barely above a whisper. "I killed him."

Shiro, having finally caught his breath, looked up at Lance. He heard what he said that time. He heard it so loud and so clear.

He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know what sort of power had overcome him — what sort of power flushed through his veins and gave him the strength to do what he was about to do. Shiro didn't know what he was doing. He just stood up, made his way over to Lance in a wordless, stumbling fashion. Shiro didn't know what he was doing. He just cupped Lance's face in his one hand.

Shiro didn't know what he was doing.

He just pulled Lance into a deep kiss.

Lance's face flushed. He didn't respond for a few long moments before the tension left his body and his eyes fluttered shut. He melted into the kiss, kissing back after only a moment and moving one hand to Shiro's hair, gently gripping it.

 

He didn't know what he was doing, kissing back, but Shiro's lips were soft against his own and they felt oddly comforting. He liked it a lot more than he would ever admit to.

When the kiss broke, and what had happened processed in his brain, his face flushed red and he stuttered to try to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind.

Shiro didn't need anything to be said. His lips were tingling, his whole body suddenly warm — the warmth so good against the bitterness of terror and the fear of death. He was still trembling. His arm was still sparkling and malfunctioning, the fingers spasming about in a random manner. His face was red from blush and from his lack of oxygen. His head still buzzed and his whole system still spun. He couldn't find a reason to care about it all.

He was finally warm.

Shiro pressed his forehead against Lance's, angling his body so the naked wires of his arm couldn't shock him. "Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, letting a tear slip from his hot eyes. "You didn't... didn't have to do that. You could have just gotten away. You should have gotten away." Lance shook his head.

"No way," he said as he finally found his voice, pulling back to look Shiro in the eyes and reaching up to wipe his tear away. "No way would I ever do that. After all the times you've risked your neck for me, I had to do it at least once to try to help you."

Shiro gave a soft laugh. He leaned into Lance's hand, a hysterical sort of joy rising up in his stomach. It left into a sort of bubbling giggle. "That's fair," he murmured.

A shock climbed up his bicep again. Shiro cringed. He casted a gaze down to his arm, the spillage of wires and twisted metal making his heart sink. Shiro turned his eyes back to Lance, and then down to the body. Shiro's heart sank even more.

Sendak...

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, running the situation through his head — again and again and again.

"I need a drink," he muttered, turning away from Lance. Shiro let his desperate stare find the fridge. His arm sparked again. "Jesus fucking Christ. I need a drink." Lance nodded a little, refusing to look at the body.

"Yeah," he mumbled, the giddiness of the moment passing all too soon. "I think I do, too. How about it? Cinderella and excessive amount of alcohol?" He smiled slightly. "Nothing like watching Disney films while you get pissed."

Shiro gave a snort — an empty one, but a sort of laugh nonetheless. He made his way over to the refrigerator, opened up the top half, and pulled out two bottles of vodka in his one hand and set them down on the counter. One was marshmallow flavor. He guessed he'd rather have that. Shiro, painfully keeping his eyes from the corpse on his carpet, tried to twist the cap off with one hand. He took a sip straight from the bottle, wincing as he held it out towards Lance.

"Here you fuckin' go, Prince Charming," he said sarcastically, swishing the liquid around. He couldn't tell if it was the shock or not, but he couldn't really feel anything. Nothing beside the tingle of his lips. "Before you turn on your Disney, can you come over here and help me cut the power to my arm. You need two hands to do it and uhhh... I'm a little fucking challenged in that area." Lance nodded, not even getting to sip the vodka before putting the bottle down.

He followed Shiro's instructions for dealing with his arm, no matter how complicated, and soon the power was disconnected and he'd no longer be electrocuted by relaxing. Then Lance picked up two shot glasses and filled them both. He brought one to his lips and knocked back the shot almost immediately, pouring himself another. He really just wanted to get drunk.

Shiro's arm went limp after the ten minutes or so of Lance's tinkering. Shiro gave a deep sigh and let his shoulders slump. He reached for the shot Lance poured for him, and downed it quickly, nudging him for another one. Only when he was on his fourth did he push the shot glass away.

"You keep getting drunk. I need... I need to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do," he said licking the alcohol from his lips. Oh, how that sting in his chest tasted good. The freeze tasted good against the soreness of his throat. Shiro forced himself to look at Sendak's lifeless body.

He couldn't stop the quick burn of guilt that rushed through his system.

"Oh, Sen," he said weakly. "Jesus. Senny's dead. That's... wow." Shiro blew a long breath. "We need to figure out what to do. I... I need to figure it out..." Lance nodded, moving to the living room and taking the bottle with him as he curled up in the corner of the sofa, taking great joy in sipping the bottle while he set up Cinderella yet again.

"Can't we deal with the body later? Get pissed and deal with it when we're sober?" He wasn't in the mood to deal with it now.

Shiro shook his head. "I can't. I can't just drink when my former drinking buddy is just lying dead in my living room," he said, lifting a hand to rub at his face. "I'm gonna call Keith. I can't do this one handed. You... you shouldn't have to do anything. He'll help out. Keith is always there to help me out. He's good like that."

Shiro patted at his pocket for his personal phone. He pulled it out. It took him a few moments to type in the password, drunk, and high on adrenaline. He tapped on Keith's contact, and let it ring.

It rang. It rang. It rang.

Shiro's patience twisted away. Every ring made his nerves burn. Finally, the final series of hums thrummed from the phone speaker.

"I can't answer right now. Leave a message."

Angered, Shiro hung up and called again. This time, it only rang once before it clicked off into the answering system.

"I can't answer right now. Leave a message."

The shrill beep rang out from the speaker. "You hung up on me?" Shiro asked, dumbfounded. "Come on, Keith. This is important. Like, I'm in the deepest shit imaginable right now. I just fucking killed Sendak."

The sentence felt odd on his tongue.

"Please. Please pick up. My arms busted. I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do. Keith— I'm desperate. Please."

Shiro hung up and called again. The same results as before.

"Shit," he muttered. Shiro stuffed the phone in his pocket. "Shit..."

"No luck?" Called Lance from the living room, wiping a little vodka from around his mouth as he leant back in his eyes, his eyes falling shut. "Is he avoiding you or just not there to answer the phone?"

"He keeps hanging up on me," Shiro said, aggravated. "How the hell am I going to take care of this with one arm? I... ugh..."

Shiro stood up straight. He put a hand on his head, and ran his fingers through his hair. He breathed in a deep breath, and then let it go in a sigh.

"Maybe we should just leave," he murmured weakly. "Pack a few bags and just leave. Leave him here and just go." Shiro shook his head, all of his problems suddenly surging with the buzz from his shots. "No— Zarkon would find me. I... Jesus. I wish Keith was here. Oh my God, we're so fucking screwed!"

He was rambling again. Repeating his curses of their luck over and over again as though he'd been a broken record. Shiro put a nervous hand on his listless prosthetic, frowning a weak frown. It looked so... dead... just hanging there — blank and dark. Helpless.

Was... was it gone forever?

Shiro shook his head again. He didn't have time to think about that.

 

Lance settled down beside him. He wrapped one arm around Shiro, pressing into his neck.  
"Breathe," he mumbled softly. "Breathe, Shiro. Deep breaths. Relax," he continued, running his fingers through his hair and murmuring soft promises of safety.

He didn't like it when Shiro panicked like this. It made him panic. He hated it. "Relax. Please, calm down. We can figure this out." He didn't know how or what he would do. He just wanted to help him. He only wanted to help however he could. It wasn't likely that he would be able to. He could help with normal issues but not... not mafia issues. Not murder issues.

Shiro listened to him, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He wanted another shot — maybe two more. Maybe three and a nice joint to smoke. But he couldn't. There was too much to get done.

"Alright," Shiro sighed. "Okay... okay. I usually take care of bodies in trash bags. There are some of those in the closet. I need a car to drive him... it out to the ocean or something. I can hotwire some car outside... hopefully. I think I need two hands for that..."

Shiro looked down at his arm. "I need to fix this. Or at least take it off. I... I don't know how to do that. Sendak would." He looked at the body. A chill shot down his spine. "You... you wouldn't happen to have any ties with... I don't know. A fuckin' mechanic or something? Shit, but they can't know you're alive."

He went silent, looking down at the floor. An idea formed in his head— his best idea of the night. The most responsible idea, at least. "We could turn ourselves in to the police. Get you in witness protection and get me in prison," he muttered. "That would do it."

That would do it... for Lance at least. Shiro wouldn't last a minute in prison — not with the mix of Zarkon's enemies and Zarkon's connections. He'd be shanked and dead within a day or so, most especially if he only had his one arm to fend for himself. But Lance would be safe, and he would be out of it. His mother would get to know he was alive. His friends might have even had the permission to visit him every now and again. It would be great for Lance — the most perfect outcome for him. Shiro would die... but Lance would be happy.

"That would do it," Shiro echoed distantly.

"Fuck that," Lance said, his voice a little sharper than intended. He didn't want to send Shiro off to some prison where he'd be treated like shit. He didn't want to go hide away in some corner of America and spend the rest of his life hoping that he wouldn't be found. He wanted to stay with Shiro or he wanted to go home. Those were the only two things he was willing to do.

It wouldn't be convenient and it wouldn't be the ending that either of them wanted if they had to submit Lance to witness protection and they had to turn Shiro in. It wouldn't be fair, either, when Shiro didn't exactly have a choice in joining the mafia, much less in whether or not he could leave it.

He rubbed his eyes a little, a yawn escaping him. The consequences of not sleeping were catching up to him.

"Shiro, look, I don't want to go to witness protection. Not without you. I don't want to fuck off to somewhere that I'll be safe if you're rotting in a cell somewhere. Can't we find some alternative for it? You know how to make me disappear if I live somewhere else- Well why can't you do that, too?" He tilted his head to the side slightly. "Why can't you just make yourself disappear?"

"It's... it's complicated," Shiro muttered weakly, a soft blush lighting up his features. "Zarkon might stop looking for you, but he'll never stop looking for me. I... I'm too scared to just run away. Not to mention it's too risky for you to be with me. The only place we could go where I'd feel safe is out of the country and I just don't have the money."

Shiro looked down to the ground. The inside of his cheek had been chewed just about raw from his nervous tick -- he could taste blood against his tongue and saliva. "What we need is outside help. No matter what we do we have to get rid of the body and I... I can't. I can kid myself as much as I want to, but there's no way I'll be able to lug him-it! It... out to sea without being seen. Not with my arm like this." He had mostly been talking to himself, racking his mind for any of his connections who wouldn't betray him for Zarkon. All he could think of was Keith... but Keith was ignoring him. "I can try calling Keith again, but I think he's still pissed at me."

"I could... try... to help? I don't think I'll be much good but- but I can try. I don't want you getting in shit. And I was the one who killed him, so it's only fair," he murmured as he glanced from Shiro to the corpse. Thank fuck the bag over his head was opaque- he didn't want to see his face.

Suddenly, Lance's eyes lit up. "G-Give me your phone! I think... I think I know what to do," he said, holding out his hand expectantly. He was going to call Allura. It might be a bad decision but- but it was the only option that they had.

Shiro furrowed his brow. "What the hell are you gonna-?" He started, stopping himself with a swift shake of his head. "You know what? What the fuck. We're fucked anyways." Shiro dug in his back pocket for his phone. He checked his notifications, the hope of seeing Keith's name bright in his system. The light of hope dimmed greatly at the empty screen, and Shiro, frowning, passed his phone over. "Don't do something stupid. I'm trusting you here. What are you doing?"

Lance brought the phone to his ear once he'd typed in her number.

He waited a few seconds.

"Hello? This is Allura Altea speaking."

"Allura? It's-"  
"Lance? Lance, what the fuck? Everyone thinks you're dead! You'd better explain what's going on right now-"

"Sorry, I am, but I- I need your help. Badly. I'm with Takashi Shirogane- and- and don't freak out." He sent an anxious glance to Shiro, gritting his teeth a little. God he hoped that this was the right thing to do.

"Don't call the police, don't do anything. I just need your help. Contacting anyone else about this could get Shiro killed."  
"What the hell are you on about? Are you hurt? Is there anything I should do?"

"No, just- I'll explain everything when you get here, it's too dangerous to do it over the phone. I'll forward you the address on GroupMe but you have to delete the message afterwards. This is really important."

"I'm too busy, Lance."

"Allura, seriously. I need this. I need your help on this. Just half an hour so you can figure out what I need to do?"

A few moments of silence passed as she made up her mind.

"Fine. Send the address, I'll be there as soon as possible."

"God, you're a lifesaver. Thank you."

He hung up and opened GroupMe, finding Allura's contact and handing it to Shiro. "Send her this address."

Shiro watched him, slack jawed, his eyes widened. He was speechless. "I- Jesus, Lance! I told you not to do something stupid!" He cried, tone more of a flabbergasted shock rather than the anger he was pulling for. He took the phone, narrowing his eyes. "Why tell me not to turn myself into the cops and then just turn me into the cops?"

Despite his arguing, Shiro began typing in his address, his fingers moving with a bitter obedience. Distaste bloomed in his system as he pressed the final letter, thumb hovering over the send button for a moment or so. Another officer in his fucking apartment. He didn't quite like that idea at all.

Shiro pressed send, nonetheless.

"Just trust me, dumbfuck," muttered Lance. "I'm going to tidy up the place before she gets here," he said as he began clearing up whatever was left out in the kitchen. "Now- We just... we wait. And just trust me on this," she said with a small smile as he stood. "Because I trust Allura with my life. I told her not to call the police so she won't."

Uncomfortable, Shiro clicked his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. Trust me on this. His gaze softened, brow furrowed as he looked down at his feet. His mafia mind told him he'd be an idiot to trust such an inexperienced mind. Lance didn't know what he was talking about -- of course he didn't know what he was talking about. A newbie cop trusting his bestest cop friend to keep from arresting one of the most wanted men in New York City. It made Shiro's gut twist -- he'd be thrown in prison for sure.

But Shiro's human mind told him to trust Lance with every fiber in his body.

Because it was Lance. Lance saved his life. Lance had killed a man for him.

Lance had kissed him.

"I trust you," Shiro mumbled. "This might be the worst mistake I'll ever make, but I trust you." Lance grinned.

"Great."

The door was knocked on fifteen or so minutes later, the soft sounds of conversation behind the door. Lance could recognise Allura's voice so he opened the door. He pulled her in for a tight hug, only to then notice who she was with.

He hadn't seen him before. Long white hair, piercing blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and abnormally sharp teeth that showed when he smiled and held out his hands to introduce himself.  
"Lotor Daibazaal. Friend of Allura's."

Ah. Shit.

Shiro had been on the couch when he heard Lotor's voice. It was chillingly familiar. Every word a stabbing pierce into Shiro's memory. He'd never forget that voice -- he didn't even have to hear the name to feel the rage suddenly burn about in his stomach. It was all he felt beside the paling of his face and the sudden blanking of his mind.

Lance had just taken Lotor's hand when his attention had turned to Shiro. He pulled away and took ahold of his arm, grabbing ahold of it (with a little more desperation than needed).

"Hey, so, this is pretty fucking weird, right? Please don't kill him. We might need him."

Shiro didn't feel himself shoot up from the couch, and he didn't feel himself make his way to the door. He didn't feel Lance's hand on his arm, and he quite hear what Lance had been saying -- just the blurred, distant sound of his voice. Shiro tugged at Lance's grip, his face contorted with malice, his eyes narrowed into slits at the man who stood in his doorway.

"Get the fuck away from me!" He shouted, his voice ringing throughout the building in an echo of hate. Shiro ripped at his arm, trying to break free from Lance's grasp. He suddenly wished his other arm hadn't been ruined. He'd been dreaming of the day he'd be able to use such a weapon against Lotor's snake face. "You better get the fuck away from me if you know what's good for you!"

"And you shouldn't have killed Sendak," said Lotor as he stepped inside, taking notice of the corpse on the floor, shutting the front door. "I assume you have the appropriate tools. I can deal with the body here and now. Allura and I can take care of disposing of it. We can help you to get out of the radar of the mafia- I did it, my father has had no luck in finding me- so I'm extending my hand to temporarily put the past behind us in order to deal with this issue. By all means, when I've gotten your housing fund sorted, you can do whatever you need to do in order to relieve your... frustration."

 

Despite Shiro's clear hatred, he stepped inside. "Get bin bags and whatever you use to cut up the body." Lance kept his eyes on him for a few moments before looking up at Shiro.

Shiro hated every word that left Lotor's frowning lips. His skin was boiling. His hatred was eating at his insides like flames would eat a lush forest. His head was whirling -- screaming with the flow of his blood and the hammering of his heart. Shiro almost found himself panting with rage -- huffing and puffing like he had been after his chokehold from Sendak. He opened his mouth to yell back some mindless rebuttal at the top of his lungs, but Lance's tone cut him short.

"He'll deal with it. Please, please just- go to your room. Please. We need to deal with this now and I don't want your anger getting the better of you. If you try to hit him while he is helping us, putting his own life at risk, then you'll need to go through me," said Lance firmly as he pointed to Shiro's room. "Go. Now. That way, I can have their help to deal with the bigger issue here."

Shiro just glared down at him, wordless, seething. He tried to find something to say. "The bigger issue?" He hissed. "The biggest issue is that fact that the guy who killed the man I loved is in my fucking apartment!"

He ripped his arm away -- successful. He was trembling with anger, eyes glistening with rageful tears. Shiro turned his gaze to Lotor, who had taken a cautionary step backwards, and gave a deep huff. His fist curled up tightly, fingernails biting into his palm. Shiro could barely think his mind had been yelling so loudly.

The only thing that held on his mind was Lance's desperate commands.

"Don't fucking touch anything. I'll fucking kill you. I fucking will."

Shiro turned around, stomped his way to his room, and slammed the door behind him. The apartment shook with the strength of it.

Allura just grimaced.

"Lance, where are the bin bags?"  
"Second drawer to the left, beside the fridge. Top shelf." She fetched the bags and brought them to Lotor, looking at the body, grimacing.

"At least he got what he deserved..."

Shiro listened to them from his room, pacing back and forth. His skin felt as though it had been pulled too tightly. It crawled and it itched and it stung. It felt like it had been overrun by a colony of red ants, fiery and hot as they crawled about his arms and his legs and his back and his face. Feeling sick, Shiro groaned, lifting his hand to his head. His palm rubbed at his temple.

Lotor was in his apartment. Lotor was there and he couldn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. Every voice in his enraged system screamed at him to grab one of the gun from his room and add to the number of bodies in his apartment -- every single voice. But he couldn't do anything. He was helpless. He was pitiful. He was at the mercy of Lotor's infuriating will! Shiro groaned again and hunched over, wishing he had his other hand to crush something with. His nails dug into the flesh of his face, digging deeper with pinpricks of pain and warm blood at each and every sound of Lotor's chilling voice.

Oh, he was going to kill him. He swore on his life right then and there he'd kill Lotor dead the next time he had the chance. Shiro vowed upon it.

The body was dealt with after around an hour. Allura stayed so Lance could explain everything while Lotor left, both to dispose of the body and to successfully get all of Shiro's money from his account to use to get them away from where they were. Lance knocked on Shiro's door.

"Lotor's gone," he called softly. "He's gone out to get rid of Sendak and he's going to get the money for us to move. Can you come out here so we can talk to Allura?"

 

He waited a few moments, leaning against the door and listening in.

"Please?" he called after a few moments of silence, not wanting to explain everything on his own. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it- not without bursting into tears at the least.

Honestly, he was just relieved that the body was gone and that they were getting help in the first place. He really didn't want to stay here. He didn't want Shiro to continue to be forced to work for the mafia.

He wanted to be safe.

Shiro was leaning against the door, sitting on the floor. He'd been sitting like that for the past thirty minutes or so, just listening to everything that went about outside of his room. He began to calm down after he heard Lotor leave. Shiro's head still buzzed and his heart still felt sick, but he wasn't on the verge of murder -- and that felt good, he supposed.

Lance's soft voice had been a bit of a shock to him. He straightened up, cocking his head, but he didn't really find the power to answer just yet. Shiro waited a long while before answering Lance's second plea, trying to figure out where to start.

"How could you take his side?" Shiro asked weakly through the door. "Why did you stop me? He... he ruined my life Lance. How could you just act like it was nothing?"

He knew all the answers to his questions -- of course he knew. It was obvious. They were desperate and Lotor was their only available option. If Shiro had killed Lotor right then and there, Allura would likely arrest him on the spot. Maybe she would just leave them to deal with the body and Zarkon on their own. Taking the peaceful approach was the only way Lance and Shiro would both get out of their current situation alive.

But Shiro still asked. He asked because he felt as though it would hurt him not to. He asked because it might have been able to lift some of that painful mist from his system. He asked because he wanted to hear Lance say it. To hear Lance explain to him that he understood and that there was a reason he did what he did. He figured it would help the dreariness of his mind.

"Sh-Shiro, I- It's not nothing. I wasn't acting like it was nothing, but if I didn't step in, you would have killed him and we needed his help. What he did to you was fucked up and- and I want nothing more than for you to correct that but I can't have you beating him to death when you've got half as many arms as he has and we need him to get us out of here. Besides, he said so himself, you can get your revenge later. Please, come out of there so we can talk to Allura. I don't like that we haven't told her anything about what's going on." Guilt was eating at him. He did the right thing, he was aware that he had done the right thing, but Shiro wasn't seeing it like that. He was seeing it like it was a personal attack on him.

Lance just knew that they needed Lotor's help and that Shiro stepping in to kill him would have only gotten them in more trouble.

Shiro sighed deeply, swallowing hard against his dry throat. Slowly, he stood himself up, turned around, and opened the door. He looked down at Lance's guilt ridden face, and let his own hard glare soften. Shiro lifted his hand and reached back to rub the back of his neck. What he really wanted to do was reach down and grab his hand. Maybe wrap his one arm around Lance's toso and pull him in close for a hug.

He almost wanted to kiss him again.

"Alright," he murmured. "Alright. Let's go tell her what the hell is going on, I guess."

Lance offered up a small smile. He took Shiro's hand subconsciously, just wanting to be close to him. Shiro made him feel safe, he couldn't help it. He moved to sit down opposite her and pulled Shiro to sit beside him. She watched the two of them expectantly, silent while she waited for an explanation.

"It all started with the bust at the warehouse."


	17. The Journey

Allura sat there for a few moments after the story had been explained. She wasn't exactly sure how to respond.

On one hand, she wanted to address the fact that Lance was living hostage in the house of someone working under Zarkon in the Galra mafia. On the other hand, she wanted to hug him and tell him that she'd been worried and tell him that she'd let Hunk and Pidge know that he was okay. On a hypothetical third hand, she wanted to slap him for being stupid enough not to kill himself the second it became a matter of life with Shiro or death. And yet, she ended up doing none of the above.

"I'm just glad you're alive," she said as she glanced at the two of them. "Even if this isn't how anyone would want to live."

Shiro held his tongue and managed to only scowl at his shoes.

Lance laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He shifted a little closer to Shiro.

"Yeah, well, I didn't have too much of a choice. I didn't really want to die." She nodded a little, leaning on her hand.

"I can try my hardest to get you a bookstore, Lance, like you want," she suggested, watching as colour rose to his cheeks.

"I don't even talk about it that much," he murmured. "It's not even a big dream or anything. I swear I don't talk about it that much," he said, not sure if he was talking to himself or someone else while defending his case.

The soft dingling of a bell and Black announced her arrival, leaping onto the table to walk to Shiro and butt her head against his, meowing to get his attention fully.

She had clearly grown sick of Blue, who trotted in after her. Upon seeing Allura, though, her focus changed entirely and she was stood with her front paws on the chair, sniffing and licking Allura's face as her tail wagged excitedly. Another person for her to pester. Lance decided not to call her off, despite how Allura seemed to dislike the dog's show of affection.

Shiro sat quietly and watched them talk, feeling a bit out of place. He watched Blue jump and love on Allura with a distant feeling of jealousy. He sat stiffly, narrowed eyes shifting back and forth from person to person, from animal to animal. Black had crawled into his lap and curled up into a content little ball upon his legs, purring with every pet she'd get from Shiro's one hand. 

His eyes suspiciously narrowed, Shiro began to observe Allura. She was taller and muscular. Her eyes held a magical blue. Her hair was long and wavy -- white with the occasional shimmering silver. He wondered if it had been real like his... but then he decided against it. Allura's looked to masterful to be real -- it had to have come from a bottle rather than stress. She had it down just then -- it rolled over her shoulders and laid down at her back. It was why he couldn't quite recognizer her right away. Allura's formal work photo --the one the Galran mafia kept close tabs on, as it did with most high ranked detectives-- showed her with her hair tied back in a magnificent bun.

So that was Allura, Lance's not-girlfriend. Shiro couldn't quite tell why he had begun to feel jealous again. Maybe it was the way she regarded him so stiffly. Maybe it was the way Lance spoke to her so freely and with such ease. Maybe he was just confused and still bitter from his encounter with Lotor. Shiro didn't quite know.

"Why were you with Lotor?" Shiro suddenly chimed in, shifting the topic. His tone was childishly snide. "Are you one of the cops he would rat everyone out to?"

Allura and Lance both turned their attention to Shiro at once, conversation dying almost immediately.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, a frown upon her lips and one hand lying delicately on her chest. "I wasn't as highly ranked when he was our informant. He spoke directly to the leader of the task force," she said, her brows furrowed. As if it was outrageous for him to accuse her of it. "I know him from an alternate work." She took a breath.

"I know him from being the leader of the Arus mafia, who helped him when he fled his father."

Lance's eyes widened.

"No fucking way!" he said, glancing from Shiro to Allura. This was insane. She nodded.

"My father was Alfor Altea, who was killed by Zarkon's hand. I assisted Lotor's escape and now I'll be helping yours."

"So, you're a dirty cop?" Shiro said stiffly. He heard of the Arus Mafia — of course he had heard of it. It was the largest mafia aside from his own, and it was still growing. It was one of the Galrans main problems aside from cops and such. "Classy."

"Not as classy as I had hoped, but I do as is necessary to ensure that my father didn't die in vain. I assume that your revenge plot with Lotor is so that Adam did not die in vain, either. Don't judge me for my goals and how I achieve them, Takashi."

"It's Kuro to you, Princess," Shiro grumbled darkly before Lance interrupted, sick of their childish bickering.

"Can you two please just stop snapping at each other? Allura, we really need your help. What are we going to do?"

 

Allura sighed softly, taking out a small notepad from her pocket.

"First," she said as she took a pencil and began writing out her plan. "We find where we can relocate you to. Somewhere small and private, where there won't be a risk of you being seen. We will also take all of the money from both of your accounts- Lotor is currently doing that. Both because I wanted to talk to you and because it'd be unsafe to leave him here- in both yours and... Takashi's care."

Shiro gave a huff, but he didn't say anything.

She scribbled out a few more notes on the paper, her handwriting smooth and cursive and neat.

"We'll find a house in that area, or a shop or something, for you two to move into. I don't think that you will each have enough money for your own houses. We will get you new passports, birth certificates, all legal documents will be taken care of as soon as possible. You can either continue with your current names or not, though continuing is much riskier than changing them." She didn't look up at the two of them, focused on the details.

"You will need new phones, likely burners, new credits cards, etcetera. Those can be dealt with individually after you have moved into your house. This can be done... ideally within a week. In the meantime, you will be taking refuge with us. You will also have to be as... civil as possible while with Lotor. He insisted upon coming to help and he helps me run the mafia. You will need to begin packing immediately. I can delete the video footage for a total of half an hour so that the two of you can take out all bags needed." She stood. "Any complaints can be brought up after you have packed, if we are still waiting for Lotor. If not, you will have to bring them up while we are in the car."

Shiro's skin was boiling again. He didn't like how she regarded them — how she bossed them around as though she had been the only one who knew what she was talking about. Shiro already knew all of that. He knew what he needed to get done and how to do it, he didn't need some prissy, rich Mafia Princess telling him how to get things done.

All he needed was her money.

"Zarkon's going to see if you take money from my account. He'll get an alert —he has tabs everywhere," Shiro said, glaring. "I have cash hidden behind the toilet. I take some out every month for emergencies. Don't let Lotor touch my bank account."

"Lotor will know how to bypass it. He did for himself, he can for you. He's the son of Zarkon, he knows how to be undetected when he makes moves like this."

Shiro just frowned at her, feeling unconvinced.

Whatever.

He stood, pushing Black from his lap onto the couch. "Well, where the hell are we going then?" He muttered, walking away towards the kitchen. His hand groped for the alcohol on the counter. He leaned back. "Are we leaving the country?"

"Ideally, yes," she said upon getting to her feet, eyes flickering to Lance, who stood to follow Shiro. "Somewhere in Europe, likely England. We can get you in a hotel while we search for houses there. Does that sound okay? Do you have a specific place you'd like to go to?" She leant forward slightly, keeping her eyes fixed on Shiro now. She knew Lance wouldn't have any objections- it was his life being saved. Shiro's life would just be collateral. And yet, despite being the less important one, Shiro was the difficult one. Typical.

Lance stood, gave a reassuring squeeze to Shiro's hand before murmuring something about packing and disappearing to his room to do exactly that.

Shiro watched Lance leave, taking a harsh sip from his vodka. He winced back at the burn, scrunching his nose and pinching his eyes until the alcohol settled.

"Whatever. As long as we get out of the country," he shrugged, stifling a cough. Shiro took another swig, using his drink as an excuse to keep from meeting Allura's eyes. "You better know what you're doing. If anything happens to him-" Shiro paused the gesture towards Lance's room, "consider yourself on my Goddamn list right next to your fucking boyfriend — or whatever he is."

Shiro leaned off of the counter, and turned, not letting himself hear Allura's answer. He made his wordless way to his room, wondering just what he was going to pack — if he had a bag large enough to fit everything he wanted to bring. He wondered, as he knelt down to grab one of his suitcases from beneath his bed, if Black would be okay during the trip. He wondered if he would be okay during the trip — Shiro hadn't been in a plane since he was a child, and even then it had only been once. He wondered if he would be able to contain himself, being so close to Lotor for so long. He wondered if he'd snap.

He wonder what Lance would do if he snapped.

Shiro rolled his shirts into the smallest little balls and stuffed them in one after another. He rolled his pants so they'd all fit, and folded up his two leather jackets. There was still plenty of room. Shiro dragged his eyes about the room, meeting certificates and awards and medals and photos. He froze upon the sight of Lance's drawing, that raw spot of his cheek back between his teeth. Shiro stood, grabbed the drawing, and then grabbed the photo behind it. He held both in his one hand, searching through the thick layer of dust.

There sat his engagement ring, the gold dimmed from time.

Shiro grabbed it, and stuffed all three into his bag. He grabbed his emergency stashes of weed and shoved them in his pockets. Everything else was an impulsive decision — pictures and books and such. Shiro continued to pack, wondering, thinking. He tried to keep his mind quiet.

Lance just packed everything he had unpacked only a matter of days ago. He then moved to the kitchen and gathered Blue and Black's food bowls and their food, filling other bags with it. He didn't say anything. The air was thick with tension and he'd lost his voice long ago. He didn't know what to say, even if he could say something.

Instead, he just finished packing as much as he could fit in his bags and dropped them by the door, calling Blue. She trotted over and, as he reached out to pet her, dropped onto the floor and lay on her back to let him pet her belly.

 

A fond smile appeared on Lance's lips and he began running his fingers through her fur, murmuring soft praise to her in the quietest voice. She was the only person who'd always stay by him. He wrapped one arm around her and pressed into her neck, eyes closing. He was so happy to still have her.

He didn't move until Shiro was done packing and they were all standing awkwardly by the door, waiting for Lotor's return. He only barely had the energy to sit up, rubbing his eyes slightly. Blue turned her head to the side and licked Lance's knee, reassuring him somehow. It was more comforting than anything Allura or Shiro could do.

Shiro had packed all he wanted, and have one last goodbye to his room. The quiet room that would comfort him whenever he'd wake up alone from a nightmare. The room he'd come home to after a job, bloody and tired. The room he had slept alongside Lance in. The room he had slept alongside Adam in.

With a nod, Shiro gave the room a silent thank you, and left. He went to go stand beside Lance and Blue, Black's carrier cage resting by his feet. She hadn't been in it yet — only stared warily from the sofa, probably dreading a visit to the vet. Shiro gave a huff and leaned up against the wall. He looked to Allura, who was still up and about in the living room, casting her gaze along with walls and studying the stained furniture with a look of faint disgust.

"Do you know someone who can take off my arm?" He asked, sighing. "I can't deal with this dead weight for the rest of my life."

"I can find someone who can take it off and replace it," she said, not sparing him a glance. "A better arm. More efficient, not tied to any particular mafia but we will have a tracker inside it in case anything happens to you, solely for your safety." She wasn't going to debate this. She wasn't going to argue about it- that was the one condition she had. If she was going to be courteous enough to gift him with another arm, she was going to have him agree to that one condition.

Shiro blinked. He looked down the the mangled mess of metal and wires that hung about at his side. "Replace it..." he murmured in-awedly to himself, not really getting an answer. He blinked again and shook his head. "Wait-did you say tracker?" His second statement was angerier in tone and higher in pitch, but it still didn't get any sort of answer.

Lance was still silent. He didn't see a point in interrupting.

Lotor knocked on the door three times.

"Got it. Disable the cameras and let's go," he said firmly, his voice a little sharper than necessary. Allura pressed a few buttons on her phone before opening the door. Lance was on his feet first, whistling to Blue for her to trot along by his heel. He followed Lotor, dead silent, out to the car.

He had no idea why he was so miserable. He had no idea why he felt so... miserable. Was it just setting in that he had killed someone? Perhaps. Was he worried about himself and about Shiro? Perhaps. He didn't know.

Allura gestured to the door.

"Shiro," she said, her eyes flickering to him. "Go ahead to the car, but try to refrain from attacking Lotor. I don't want to use force to stop you from killing him."

Shiro called Black over in a soft, cooing sort of voice, and opened up her cage. She came over slowly, meandering her petty way to him. He ushered her into the door of her carrier, and shut the gate. "Like you could stop me," Shiro snapped quietly, tone most cynical.

"Don't doubt me, pretty boy, I can-"

"Can you carry Black? I'm a little short on hands." He didn't wait for an answer, slinging his heavily stuffed bag over his shoulders with its straps as he turned out the door to follow Lance.

He tried to ignore the far figure before them. He tried to ignore that long, slick mass of white hair moving from side to side as Lotor took his sickeningly charming strides down the hall of Shiro's floor. Instead, Shiro shook his head and moved forwards so he could stand by Lance's side. He let his hand find Lance's, and gently linked their pinkies, wordless. Shiro didn't really think he deserved to hold Lance's whole hand -- just the soft touch would do.

Shiro spoke before he knew what he was going to say. "Sorry. I'm acting like an ass," Shiro blurted in a breathless whisper, his eyes averted to the floor as they came upon the staircase. Lotor must have taken them that way to better avoid the Lobby workers. "I don't know Allura and Lotor is getting under my skin. It's embarrassing you. I'm sorry. I don't know how else to act... it's like my default setting, I guess." Lance looked up at him, taking ahold of his hand properly. Lotor was carrying both of Lance's bags so that he could hold Blue's leash and Shiro's hand. He shifted a little closer to him.

"I can't blame you," he said softly as he glanced up at the male. "I don't think I'd act much differently. Just try to keep yourself calm until we're safe, okay?" he asked softly, his eyes flickering to Shiro. The situation had sobered him up a little- at least enough for him to be able to think straight and put one foot in front of the other without falling. He yawned. "Can I fall asleep on you? When we're in the car? I'm exhausted and you... you're comfy."

Shiro smiled softly, the action feeling nice against his current state of inner turmoil. It suddenly seemed as though Lance always knew what to say to calm Shiro's strife. He thought back to his nightmare, back to every time he'd let his panic get the best of his tone, and Shiro found that Lance had always tried to soothe his nerves. And somehow... thinking back to it... it always seemed to work somehow. Maybe it was that Lance was just good at that. Maybe it was just his voice.

"Sure, whatever," he hummed gently, trying to bring his temper down to better match Lance's fatigue. Shiro moved closer to Lance, so close their arms touched as they made their way down the staircase. When they stepped off the final step, Shiro stopped them at the base of the stairs, giving Lance a soft glance. "Are you alright? This... this is all a lot. Hell, I'm a mafia drug lord and it's a lot. And you killed a guy. You're just kinda takin' a lot of blows here and the blows are coming real fast, man."

Lance looked up at him, brows furrowing slightly.

"I... I think I'm okay," he mumbled softly. "I'm honestly not so sure anymore. I kinda- I think that I want to go to sleep. Have a nap for a little bit and deal with it when I wake up. I'm not sure. I'm not even sure what I'm feeling right now." he kept a tight hold on Shiro's hand, biting his bottom lip as he watched him. "I'm just glad that I'm going somewhere with you. If I were doing this alone, for- like- witness protection, I'm not sure if I'd be able to last even this long."

Lotor was already putting bags into the car and Allura soon joined him, sparing only a glance to the two they were supposed to be rescuing. She could give them another five minutes, at the most, to talk. Blue had already gotten into the car and Black was in her cage by where Shiro would sit.

"I think I'll be okay," Lance then mumbled, but there was no conviction in his words. Nothing said that he was confident. He definitely didn't seem to be confident about it. "Just don't leave me alone at any point. As much as I trust Allura, I don't trust Lotor at all. I don't want to be alone with either of them..."

Shiro nodded firmly, letting a new objective overcome his wishes for Lotor's demise and Allura's embarrassment. Stay with Lance. Keep him safe. He let a dark look fall upon Lotor, who was currently closing up the trunk of the car, but that was all he let himself do. Shiro blinked a little and turned back to Lance.

"Yeah. Yeah of course," Shiro promised softly, squeezing Lance's hand a little tighter in an act of weak assurance. He let the faintest smile break free. "You're stuck with me, remember?"

Lance offered up a feeble smile.

"What a terrible fate I have condemned myself to," he said, his tone hinted with playfulness. "I suppose I will just have to have a really strong man look after me. Oh, how tragic." Despite how his voice was dampened with tiredness, he still had an air of melodrama about him. He gave Shiro's hand another squeeze.

"Come on, let's go. Better to leave now so we can get the fuck out of here as soon as possible."

Shiro smiled slickly at him, but then casted his stare at his building, feeling another pinch of sorrow. Shiro shook his head. "Alright," he said distantly. "Let's get out of here."

They walked towards the car, and slid into their seats. Lotor and Allura sat in the front, and Shiro and Lance settles themselves in the back. Shiro tried not to let the two heads of infuriatingly magnificent white hair brew the anger up further in his chest. Black's cage was pressed between Shiro's hip and the car door a bit uncomfortably, and she grumbled and yowled gently through the bars, but Shiro didn't let it bother him too much. Instead, he opened up his arm for Lance, and waited for the inevitable cuddles.

Lance shifted closer. He sat by the door with Shiro next to him, in the middle. His head tipped onto Shiro's shoulder, in his embrace, and his eyes fluttered closed as he waited for Shiro's arm to settle around his shoulders and for sleep to overtake him. The car started with a rumbling purr and Lotor began to drive, the radio softly playing pop music.

While Allura preferred to drive, if Lotor showed no other purpose for the trip she was worried that Shiro would strangle him while he sat there. Overall, the trip had been planned so Shiro would have as little access to Lotor as possible.

Shiro caught onto this, and only gave his input through a snarled sort of smirk. He wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulder, and pulled him in close, inviting Lance's warmth. Shiro turned his head to look out the window, out into the dark streets of New York, watching the amber glows of the street lights pass them as they drove along, hoping the scenery would soothe his nerves. The clouds above twisted and misted above the moon and the stars, the oncoming storm blotting out the natural light of the night.

"Where are we going? Your place, right?" Shiro asked quietly, hoping his voice wouldn't stir the dozing Lance, who had curled up with his legs over Shiro's lap. Blue was also asleep by now, curled up in Lance's unoccupied footwell. "I wasn't really paying attention when you were explaining everything. Your accent is distracting."

"We're going to take you to somewhere you can stay," Allura said, her voice hinted with irritation. 

"We can have your arm removed tonight and have a new prosthetic prepared tomorrow," added Lotor, his voice stoic. He was much more tolerant, he'd not be too easy to irritate. "As soon as we have your stuff in your room, we'll take you to get your arm removed."

Discomfort bloomed in Shiro's chest."Well, who's going to do that?" He questioned tightly, trying everything he could to keep from raising his voice. "Not Lotor, right? He basically ripped my arm off once already. I'm not really comfortable with him doing it a second time."

Shiro spoke as though Lotor wasn't in the car. He made a point not to regard him in any way. He did this both out of spite, and out of the fear that he'd reach forward and strangle Lotor if he ever brought up the nerve to actually speak to the man. Shiro closed his eyes, trying to keep patient as he waited for an answer. He began to listen to the first bit of rain pattering upon his window. The sound was refreshing — it drew out a long sigh from his troubled system.

"No," Lotor answered, ignoring Allura's irate sigh. "I'm going to be searching for your house while Coran is fixing your arm," he said, drumming his long fingernails on the steering wheel.

Shiro opened his mouth to give some snarky rebuttal about a name as dumb as Coran, but he held his words. He figured Lotor didn't deserve the satisfaction.

Allura was on her phone while Lotor drove. From his angle, Shiro couldn't see what exactly she was doing but it was clear that she was typing. Texting, most likely. Lance's eyes were closed and he was sleeping contently, snuggled up so close to Shiro he was almost sitting on his lap. Shiro was warm while the car was cold. Lotor had the air conditioning on a fairly high setting.

Shiro felt Lance's soft shiver. He hugged Lance a little tighter against him protectively, dark eyes watching Lotor with a look of pure hatred. "Lance is cold," Shiro declared quietly. "Turn the AC down."

"No," came Lotor's firm voice. "If he's cold, put a jacket on him. The cold helps me to focus." His voice was a little sharper than necessary, he evidently needed to shoot Shiro down and put him back in his place before anything happened. It wasn't like Lotor wasn't cold, anyway, he wore a t-shirt and his arms had goosebumps. He didn't seem to mind, though. Not like the shivering Lance did.

"Fuck you," Shiro muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowed.

Shiro huffed, and began slipping off his coat — which proved to be quite difficult with his one arm and with Lance asleep on his lap. He laid it down on the sleeping Lance, leaning back on the cold seat. Shiro been quite cold himself actually. With the shock of the situation fading away, Shiro could feel the pains and needs of his body present themselves rather angrily to his system. His throat was aching where Sendak had held him. His upper bicep stung from the shocks of his arm, his skin burning and pink. Shiro's eyelids were heavy, and grew ever the more so with every alluring pass of the street lights. His skin was cold, and crawled with trembles. He thought about falling asleep, but promptly shot the idea down. If Shiro had fallen asleep, there would be no one to protect Lance. Lotor could do whatever he so pleased — it made Shiro's teeth grind. He would not fall asleep.

Allura reached over and flickered the AC down, just one or two dials despite Lotor's silent disagreement. Lance's shivering had stopped almost immediately after the coat supplied him with warmth but kept his tight hold on Shiro regardless, clinging to him as he lay there. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, showing no outward signs of a nightmare of any kind. It was the least he deserved- a good night's sleep, even if he would be waking up somewhere entirely new with the very likely risk of being hurt or killed by this new mafia. God, he didn't know what was going on anymore. His life had fallen apart so quickly.

And despite being the cause of this, Shiro was the only thing keeping him together.

Shiro didn't talk much for the rest of the trip. Here and there he'd ask something just to keep the pressure of the silence from crushing him -- something like what airline are we traveling with? or you're sure Zarkon couldn't see the withdrawal from my account? -- but every question was met with a stiff, short answer, and the silence would close back in. He tried to let the white noises distract him from the tenseness. The tapping of the rain upon the car and the heavy thunks of the windshield wipers. The thrumming wurr of the engine and the soft hum of the tires. The honks of cars and the gurgling of machinery that flooded the late night New York air. Shiro furrowed his brow, listened to the sounds, and tried to keep away the awkward tension the best he could.

They drove for a while -- it took them a bit to even get out of the New York traffic and into the longer, smoother roads of the state. Shiro watched as the buildings about him became less and less familiar as they passed into one of the more richer parts of the city. He felt a chill crawl up his back at the sights around him, catching the disgusting idea that he was now in one of the Arus Mafia's largest territories. He had maybe only been there once or twice to make a deal with some lower classed druggies, but that was about it. Shiro sank back into his chair, scrunched up his face as though he had smelled something fowl, and shook his head.

"These windows are tinted, right?" He asked nervously, peering about the crowded streets. "I... uh... might have some debts to pay to some folks around here."

"Ah, I knew we had forgotten something," came Allura's voice, dripping with sarcasm. She had gotten tired of Shiro's incessant questions only around an hour ago. "I should have picked up the car with the tinted windows! I can't afford to have your blood and brains ruin my car because people here love you so much." She glanced back at him, eyes a little narrowed. "Yes, the windows are tinted. Security cameras could pick up your face if they weren't. You expect me to be stupid, Takashi. Sorry, Kuro."

Lotor smiled a little, though he was glad Shiro couldn't see it from how he was sad. He'd grown tired of Shiro's questions, too, but he was much better at hiding it than Allura was. She wore her emotions on her sleeve. Lotor had been raised doing the opposite.

Shiro glared at her, his stare like stone. He waited for Allura to turn around before he grumbled something about daring her to call him Takashi again under his breath. Huffing again, Shiro shook his head and looked out the window, biting the inside of his cheek. He just wanted to be alone. All by himself so he could think everything over. All alone to process the horrors of the night. No snappy Allura, no blood-boiling Lotor, and no... well... he couldn't really say no Lance with that promise he had made. Shiro let his eyes trail down to the man cuddled up on his lap, and his nerves lessened a little. He suddenly changed his wishes.

Shiro just wanted to be alone with Lance.

"Can I share a room with Lance?" He asked meekly, trying to sound more genuine and serious than his petty questions from before. "Wherever we're staying... I just... I don't want to get separated."

That took Allura off guard. She didn't have a snappy remark. She struggled to even find her words after that. Shiro's tone was entirely different when he spoke about Lance. Everything about him was different. Honestly, she had doubted that he was capable of being sincere.

"You may share a room with Lance," spoke Lotor when Allura failed to give an answer. "Would you like one bed to share or two separate beds? We can organise for either." His tone wasn't mocking or shameful, as would have been expected. Evidently, he understood the importance of staying with someone they wanted to protect. He felt the same way about Allura.

Shiro had to swallow back his pride a moment to answer. "Just one," he said quietly, trying to pretend his mouth didn't taste so vile at the thought of actually speaking to such a monster. Shiro ignored it, distracting himself by gently running his fingers through Lance's hair. His eyes found Lance's arm, and promptly narrowed.

"Just one," Lotor confirmed to himself.

Dried blood and bruises danced up his skin. Shiro's mouth fell open a bit, and he reached up to turn on the back light, ignoring the strange look Allura had given him from the passenger seat. "Jesus... When the hell did this happen?" he murmured to himself, running a delicate finger along Lance's bruises. A pang of self loathing plunged sharply into Shiro's gut. How could you not notice? After everything he's done for you? After every injury of yours he has fixed? He tried to rack his brain, thinking back throughout the night. Lance must have gotten all of that from Sendak -- Shiro had to admit the few minutes after Sendak had released his throat were a bit misty. Shiro ran his finger back up Lance's arm, brow furrowed with concern. All those gashes and bruises... Shiro swallowed against his dry throat.

How could you not notice?

"Did you notice this? His arms all messed up." Shiro's voice was more emotional than he intended. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Do you have a First Aid kit in here somewhere? At the place we're going?"

"We have some in the car. Underneath the seat in the middle. There's a compartment down there, the passcode is 0889. It changes daily so I'm not worried about telling you," he said, leant back comfortably in his chair. Allura had rolled the window down slightly, enough to get some fresh, cool air into the car. She didn't focus on Lance's 'messed up' arm, instead just trusting that Shiro could deal with it.

"If you need help, I'd not mind. You only have one arm, so you might have a little difficulty."

Shiro looked down at himself and his mood worsened. He'd forgotten about that for a hot second...

"Fuck. Yeah... I guess you'd better do it then," he muttered, a soft blush of shame rising in his cheeks. "I'll wake him up and grab the kit."

Gently, Shiro placed his one hand on Lance's shoulder. He didn't really know what to do -- he hadn't done anything like that in a long while. Biting his cheek again, Shiro shook Lance about just slightly. "Lance? Hey man. Get up a sec'. We gotta fix your arm, dude," he said in a quiet sort of coo. Shiro watched Lance stir, and then keep his stubborn eyes closed. Smiling a little bit, Shiro shook him again. "Come on, dude. It'll only be, like, a minute."

Lance grumbled, whining a little. He let out a few disoriented groans, eyes fluttering open. He offered up a small smile as he looked to Shiro, happy that his face was the first thing that he got to see. Allura turned to see the two of them.

"Shiro, hold his arm still and pass me the kit," she said, studying his arm. "God, what happened?"

Shiro gave a nod, and typed in the passcode for the compartment Lotor had told him about. Out spilled a large First Aid kit, a wad of cash, and a baggie of weed. Shiro, naturally, eyed the weed a moment. There was a moment of hesitation before Shiro gave a soft shrug, discreetly stuffing it into his boot while he grabbed the kit. He leaned back up, handed the medical kit to Allura, and then laid back by Lance to he could hold his arm steady.

"Sendak," Lance grumbled tiredly, his voice thick with tiredness he yawned. Blue nudged him a little, sitting up, and he gave her a smile. He began to coo to her, tiredly praising her and telling her that she was the best girl he knew. She couldn't understand him, but she was happy to have him talk to her either way and her eyes lit up, her tail wagging.

Allura just sighed and sprayed a wipe with disinfectant, running it along Lance's arm and making him hiss in pain. The few cuts from where Sendak had dug his prosthetic fingertips into his skin burned and stung sharply. That was one way to fucking wake him up.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able help. I shouldn't have let him hurt you," Shiro murmured to Lance and Lance alone, hoping Allura wouldn't chime in and make fun of his tone. He smiled a weak smile. "Guess Sendak had it out for both of our arms, hm?" Lance offered a soft laugh, pressing his face into Shiro's neck.

"Something about him and arms, man. He just- I bet he just liked them. Like, really liked them. Either that or he lost his arm so he had it out for everyone else with two arms."

Allura stayed silent as she worked on bandaging up Lance's arm, letting them talk. Neither her nor Lotor had any part of their conversations so she wasn't going to interrupt. They needed to talk to make this seem more normal than it was, otherwise it was just going to be more painful for them both to adjust to this change.

"What an asshole," Shiro said in a huff of laughter. "He always tried to fuckin' one up me. 'Haha, my arm is better, haha.' Everyone knew mine was cooler. His was so big and stupid looking. Couldn't even fit through doors."

Despite Lance's obvious displeasure at waking up, Shiro had to say it made him feel seven times as good. Lance's voice, as Shiro had surmised from before, just made his whole system settle into a state of calmness. His smile was truer, and his voice had finally lost its snarky hum from when he spoke to Allura and Lotor. His weariness and his injuries all seemed to dull. To have Lance's brightness beside him was like having a reason to hope.

"Fucking idiot," Lance mumbled with a nod. "I bet he wishes he hadn't stepped through our door. Died because of his infatuation with arms." He suddenly fell quiet and the smile fell from his lips.

He bit his bottom lip a little.

"But he did only die because of me,' he admitted. A moment or so passed where silence hung heavy in the air. It was like it was Lance's first time actually processing what he had done.

Shiro was quiet a second, taking a bit longer to recognize the drop in atmosphere. It took him even longer to find something to say, that sense of misunderstanding human emotions kicking in and taking him by full surprise. "Oh... Lance... Don't worry about that, man. If it wasn't for that I'd be dead or... or worse. That was the right thing to d-"

"I'd do it again." His voice was firm, full of conviction, determined. "He was going to hurt you. He'd kill you, Shiro." Lance looked up and met Shiro's eyes. "And I would do it again if you were in danger."

The car had gone awkwardly quiet by now.

Shiro went warm, his face flushing and his system buzzing with a sudden feeling he didn't quite recognize. His eyes softened, and he couldn't stop the gentlest of smiles that curled up his cheeks. Before he could stop himself, Shiro leaned forward, his forehead against Lance's. Their nose bumped, and there was a half a beat of hesitation before Shiro pressed forward a kiss. It was a soft kiss -- softer from his nearly hysterical kiss from before. Shiro kissed Lance for a moment or so, and Lance kissed him back. It lasted for maybe five more seconds before Shiro stopped it, pulling his lips back just slightly.

"That was the most romantic thing I ever heard," he muttered with a slick smile, their foreheads still touching. Lance laughed softly, not even commenting as he moved one hand into Shiro's hair and pulled him in for another kiss.

His lips were tingling, his heart was light, his eyes fluttered closed as he leant fully into the sensation of Shiro's warm lips on his own. He wasn't sure how he felt about Shiro. He wasn't sure about his feelings. He didn't know how far they went, all that he knew was that right now, he wanted nothing more than Shiro's lips against his own. He tugged his hair a little, playing with it.

Lotor sighed a little.

"Do you two think you could wait to get to your room?" he asked, his voice sharper than it had been before.

Shiro leaned back for just a moment to mutter a

slurred, "shut the fuck up, homewrecker," before he continued their kiss, letting the heat from his sudden anger die down with Lance's touch.

"I agree," Allura said after a moment, as Lance broke the kiss. "This is neither the time nor the place."

Lance's face was flushed as he pressed into Shiro's neck, biting his bottom lip hard. Oh my god, that had really just happened. And now he was being called out for it. He could just die on the spot for that.

Shiro, however, enjoyed the discomfort of the other two in the car. He leaned back, his one arm still wrapped around Lance. "Who's to say it's not the time?" He asked, a little too giddy from the kiss. "We almost died."

His face was flushed with a comfortable pink, and his head was whirling with joyful adrenaline. He couldn't quite tell why kissing Lance made him feel so incredibly high. Maybe Lance's lips had been laced with the strongest drugs known to man. That had to be what made them taste so good and feel so warm against his own.

Maybe it's just because you have a huge crush on him, dumbass.

Shiro had to hold his tongue, almost answering his mind's absurd idea aloud with a doubtful 'fuck no'. His blush grew heavier, and a bit more uncomfortable than the soft rise of heat from before. Shiro looked towards Lance, and felt his stomach drop a little. Fuck no. It's just... it's a professional thing.

You just kissed him.

Shiro's head began to spin. He leaned back, suddenly quiet -- his previous humour lost from his system. His mind worked hard, piecing everything together so it just wouldn't be true. He didn't... no... he couldn't have a crush on Lance -- Lance of all people. They were friends. Close friends who... who cuddled and who kissed and who locked deep gazes for times longer than they should be...

"Are we gonna be there soon?" Shiro asked, trying to change to topic. He tried to keep his tone steady, despite the wild emotions rampaging throughout his mind. It came out a strained sort of anger -- which he supposed he didn't mind. "Black shouldn't be in her cage this long."

The car stopped only a second or so after Shiro had asked.

"We're here," came Lotor's voice as he slipped out of his seat, getting out of the car. He stretched, Allura stepping out of the car a moment later to stand by Lotor's side. Lance squirmed off of Shiro's lap and opened the door, only barely snatching the end of Blue's leash in time to stop her mad freedom dash.

He stepped out of the car and yawned, watching Blue jump at Lotor and Allura, dashing between the two of them. He shoved the leash into Allura's hand as she tried to tame the slobbery dog and began getting bags out of the car. He looked up at Shiro, giving him a warm smile.

"Are you ready to go? You did just ask when the trip would be over. Honestly, I want to be able to relax in an actual bed again! It's not comfy sleeping in a car, not even if you have a strong, muscular man to lie on~!" His voice was playful, teasing, as he swung a bag over his shoulder and closed the door. He clearly wasn't thinking about their relationship as much as Shiro was.

Then again, he had never had a loved one murdered solely for being associated to him, so he didn't really have much of a reason to overthink it.

Shiro stepped from the car, the whining crate in his one hand. He'd been stretching the numbness from his legs and the soreness from his shoulders when Lance had called out to him. Shiro looked over the car at him, and offered a blushing smile. He stepped towards the trunk of the car, stopped to look down at his full hand, and then casted a dull stare up towards Allura.

"You could get my bag, yeah, Princess? I've got the cat." He didn't wait for an answer, and instead made his slow way to Lance's side. "We're gonna share a room... is that okay with you? I... I thought it would be better if we stuck together, you know?" Lance grinned a little.

"Sounds perfect," he said as he shifted a little closer, bumping against him slightly. "Just be honest, though, I'm a great teddy bear when it comes to cuddling. That's why you want to share a room with me~!" he teased, poking his tongue out as he looked up at Shiro, happily following Lotor as he began to lead them inside a large building, mostly made of tinted glass. They stopped and watched while Lotor signed in and explained the scenario briefly, having an apartment suite prepared for Shiro and Lance.

He and Allura placed the bags and Black's carrier on a trolley to be taken up to their prepared room, Black's yowling making Shiro's heart ache. Lotor then turned to face the two runaways.

"Coran will have everything sorted. Shiro, if you would like to have your arm removed, come with us. Lance, you can either come with us or go to your room, someone will take you if you just ask."

Lance bit his tongue, glancing up at Shiro.

"I'll go. Just for a little bit. I- I'll leave if I feel like I need to," he said, taking ahold of Shiro's hand tightly. He glanced up at him, leaning to his ear (on his tiptoes) and murmuring that he didn't want to be alone.

Shiro squeezed his own hand a little tighter against Lance's. He leaned down beside Lance's ear smiling just slightly. "That's alright. I don't really want to be either," he whispered gently, giving Lance the softest little wink.

Allura attached Blue's leash to the cart of luggage, grimacing a little as she wiped some slobber from her hand. She didn't say anything as she began to walk past, going to another room. Lotor followed after her and Lance, shortly after him, dragging Shiro alongside him.


	18. A Wealthy Hotel

Shiro sat up on the bed, Lance beside him. His body felt light -- light and wrong and strange without the heavy prosthetic at his side. He felt as though he'd been in a constant state of missing something, as though he had left his apartment without his phone or his wallet. Shiro almost felt naked. Exposed and pitiful without the security of his arm. Constantly he'd lift his left one and grope at the free space, fingers feeling wrong as they grabbed at nothing. It... it was gone.

Lance and Shiro had been in their room for a good thirty minutes or so, sitting silently next to each other in their bed. It was a large suite with multiple rooms -- obviously bought with a hefty amount of money. There was a living room surrounded with darkly tinted windows with long, black drapes that had currently been drawn to a close. In that living room was a large, white sofa that hung low to the ground and appeared to be more for show than for comfort. There was a large television, the grand entertainment set equipped with a modern looking lamp, a television menu, and a menu for room service. The floor was a deep colored wood, giving the apartment room a darker, more serious feel with it's grey walls and black furniture. The master bedroom was down a hall across from a small bathroom. It was large, larger than Shiro's old room. It had long dressers and a king sized bed -- the grand headboard large and fitted with beautifully woven cushions. The bed set was thick and heavy, silken and warm when Shiro had slipped his legs beneath the large comforter. The master bedroom had, of course, its own master bath, fitted with a large, glass shower, and a separate jet powered bath. Shiro figured he'd give it a try if he had any time.

Shiro's head had been a bit drowsy from the pain medicine that Arus Mafia medic, Coran, had given him. Despite his place in Shiro's opposing Mafia, Shiro liked the old man. The man was energetic and rather eccentric if Shiro had to say so himself -- but Coran's odd attitude felt nice after the harsh banter between him and the two white haired headaches during the car ride. He didn't act any different towards Shiro -- even though Shiro could tell Coran knew who he was. It made Shiro feel... good. Coran was a ginger, a vibrant orange made up his odd looking moustache and his longer, slicked back head of hair. His voice was nice: higher pitched and obscenely New Zealandish -- a little loud against Shiro's ever present migraine, but nice nonetheless. The man spoke to Shiro about odd things as he took the dead husk of metal from his body, distracting him from the ticks of pain Shiro would feel whenever Coran's tools would get too close to his skin. He answered Shiro's questions with patience and actually a bit of enthusiasm. The only question he avoided was Shiro's quiet plead that the tracker be taken out of his new arm -- to which he replied with a nervous glance towards Allura, and a quiet shrug of his shoulders.

Coran had drugged him enough so he could detach every bit of metal from Shiro's actual skin without too much pain, but the craftsmanship had been too complicated. Apparently, the machinery climbed deeper into Shiro's arm than they had thought. It had been a heavily rooted, convoluted connection that would take hours of complex surgery to unwind.

"Almost like it's magically stuck to ya," Coran had said after a painful few tugs, leaning back to scratch his head. "Who did this?"

"Someone named Haggar, I think," Shiro had murmured, a bit spaced out with the drugs so present in his system. "She's Zarkon's wife."

 

Coran had only hummed, and muttered something like 'ooh she's good...' before telling Shiro he'd just leave the top part connected, and maybe try to get it off during the next operation. The rest, however, was sawed off in no time, and tossed to the watchful Lotor, who had been standing guard at the door. Shiro was then sat up off of his cot, and helped out of Coran's office by Lance. They walked together all the way to their room -- and there they sat. Quiet.

All the doors were locked. Heavily.

"So," Shiro said after a while. "Apparently they have to put me under for the operation tomorrow. You heard that, right? Coran was telling me it's gonna be... kinda complicated. I don't really like the sound of that..." He paused, casting Lance a soft glance. "You'll be there, right? I mean... you don't have to be if you don't want to. It would make me feel a bit better though, I guess." Lance's eyes flickered to Shiro for a moment.

"I'll be there," he said as he reached over and took ahold of his hand. "If you want me to be there, then I'll be there. And I won't let go of your hand while you're under."

He had enjoyed sitting by and sharing witty banter with Coran while Shiro's arm was sorted. He'd enjoyed sitting with him and Shiro and seeing how the man magically released tension from them both just by being eccentric with his laughter and his tall tales of victories and defeats in all kinds of situations.

Now, though, the silence felt thick. Heavy. It was out of place and awkward and god knows it was fucking uncomfortable. He would occasionally grope for things to say, try to think of something, but all recent events had forced his mind to block off some things. Mostly memories of the murder, for Lance's sake, but it also seemed to be affecting his ability to find anything to say.

Or maybe that was normal for someone who had recently murdered someone.

Maybe it was just because he was tired. He was tired a lot lately.

"We've got room service," he began, tracing circles on Shiro's hand. "Does that mean I'm not cooking for you anymore? How will you survive a week without my cooking?" He tried humour, his voice cheery and playful but it didn't meet his eyes. His amusement, his smile, didn't quite reach his eyes. They just seemed hollow, like he was still in shock. He just kept his head on Shiro's shoulder.

"At least it's only for a few days," Shiro murmured back, not missing a beat. "You'll be back to cooking for me as soon as we get to the safe house — go back to being a housewife and everything." He was quiet, trying to match Lance's attitude with his own tone and approach.

Shiro, unlike Lance, invited the silence with open arms. He could admit it was heavier than he'd usually like it, but his aching mind had been too tired to care. He liked the stillness of the atmosphere — how it was only sometimes disturbed by the soft kicking on of the heat or a tired huff from the dozing dog at the edge of their bed. Shiro closed his eyes, feeling Lance's head on his arm and feeling Lance's touch on his hand with an impossibly heightened sense. Lance's closeness was almost loud, like an excited buzz in Shiro's mind. It was why he didn't feel the need for talking. Lance's presence would be enough.

"We have a lot to do," Shiro barely whispered, delicate to disturb the thick quiet. "We should... we should go to sleep. It's late... or uh, really early in the morning." Shiro could see the soft glow of orange from beneath those long curtains at the windows. "I know I'll be sleeping a lot today, but you won't. So..." He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, not really wanting to finish. Lance just nodded. He slipped off of the bed to tug off his shirt and pants, rummaging around in his bag for a moment before pulling out the same shirt that he'd borrowed from Shiro, sliding it on. He then moved back to bed, lying on the left side, curled up to face toward Shiro, his eyes closed and his shoulders slumped with relaxation.

He didn't feel the need to talk. As much as he disliked the silence, he had to admit that he preferred it over whatever forced conversation his scrambled head would sputter out.

All he could do was hope that he'd not have a nightmare tonight. He'd be lucky, with everything that had happened.

Shiro didn't bother undressing — he was too tired. Instead, he scooted closer to Lance, and wrapped his one arm about the ex-officer's shoulders. Shiro held him close, thankful that he had mustered up the power to ask Lotor for a shared bed. He gave a soft sigh and closed his eyes, hoping Lance felt the same.

He fell asleep quickly. It took him maybe a bit to get used to having such an empty space on the right side of his body, but when the odd feeling passed his mind, Shiro gave into sleep without a moment's hesitation. The last thing he heard before he slipped into a dreamless slumber was the soft, even breaths of Lance beside him, and the gentle chirping of morning birds outside of their windows.

By the time the sun was up fully, Lance was already awake. He had been for a while, dry tear stains around his puffy red eyes as he curled up. He was facing away from Shiro now, looking at the pillow and tracing soft circles on the sheets. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep for. He wasn't sure how long he'd been awake.

He didn't know why he had cried.

He assumed he'd had a nightmare but he- he couldn't remember it. Only the occasional, flickering image of Sendak's face and Sendak's corpse. It was most likely a nightmare.

But he didn't like that he didn't remember it.

Maybe about an hour or so after Lance had woken up, Shiro found that he'd been cold. The room seemed to have dropped a good handful of degrees — a sharp chill climbed up and down Shiro's flesh. A cool gust of wind from a nearby vent blew against his face. He gave a soft grumble and shivered. Absently, his mind still sluggish and half asleep, he tried to reach out for Lance. Of course, his right arm found nothing... because it simply wasn't there... but his left arm found Lance shoulder when during its lazed search. Shiro let out a half sentient groan, mumbled something he was sure wasn't any sort of English, and turned around so he could hug Lance again. He was being clingy and rude, but his tired, cold mind — at least the bit of his mind that had actually been thinking — couldn't find the strength to care.

He muttered something. Some sort of jumble between the words cold and stupid. He snuggled up against Lance's back, sighing. His head slowly began to clear with the growing light of the sun outside shining past the stitching of the drapery. After a long while of just lying there, waiting for his system to wake up, Shiro spoke up in a dreary tone.

"Mornin', Lance," he slurred, huffing. He could tell Lance was awake from the irregular sizes of his breath. "Did..." Shiro paused to yawn a little, "did you sleep good?"

"Mm," Lance rolled over and pressed into Shiro's neck, curling up by Shiro. His skin was littered with goosebumps but he wasn't overly processing what was going on, much less his own physical discomforts. "Fine," he lied after a moment, voice muffled as he spoke into Shiro's chest. "I slept fine. You?"

He didn't want the idle chat right now. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't want to let go of Shiro but he didn't want to deal with Shiro. He didn't know. He never really knew. All he knew was that something was missing.

Blue let out a loud huff of air and plodded over, somehow squirming her way between the two of them. Lance moved one hand to begin idly petting the top of her head as she flicked her tongue along his neck. The three of them were all evidently exhausted. Black was curled up on the windowsill.

"Like a fuckin' rock," Shiro hummed, frowning distastefully at the dog who stole his cuddles. He turned back around to look at the ceiling. "I don't really want to get up. I don't really wanna deal with everything. And this bed is so fuckin' comfortable. Better than my old-as-time bed, huh?" Lance reached over and took ahold of Shiro's hand gently.

"It is pretty comfortable," he agreed with a small smile, shifting closer and rolling onto his back. One arm was still around Blue to he ended up tugging her on top of him but she didn't mind. Lance leant against Shiro. "I guess we'll just be living a life of luxury for the next few days. Better make the most of it, Shiro," he hummed happily, turning his hazy gaze to the male beside him.

Shiro nodded a little. "Mm, yeah," he agreed. Shiro leaned up a little, eased Lance off of him, and stretched out his arms. He groped for the bedside table, where another copy of the room service menu had been laying. He grabbed his glasses from the floor where he had so carelessly dropped them the night before, and scanned through the breakfasts. After a moment, he offered the laminated slip to Lance. "Since we're not paying, you might as well make most of that room service, too. Order the more expensive stuff." His last bit was said with an evil laugh. Shiro relished in the idea that Lotor would have a rather long and hefty bill after all of this. "I can't eat anything -- Coran said nothing before the operation because of the drugs or something. So just order what you want, I guess." Shiro's stomach grumbled a bit at the sickening thought, but he held his grimace, and laid back down.

Lance nodded. He skimmed through the menu, his head settling on Shiro's chest again when the male was lying back down. He just ordered the bagels, setting the menu down as he wrapped one arm around Shiro.

"Are you nervous?" he asked after a few moments. "About- about the whole operation? I mean, I'm a little on edge about it." He probably shouldn't be encouraging anxiousness with his questions but he wasn't sure what Shiro thought about it He wasn't sure how he felt about it. Shiro was promised a new arm and everything, but he didn't know these people. He only knew Allura and even then, all of this, he was beginning to doubt her. That wasn't unreasonable, was it?

Shiro gave a soft shrug of his shoulders. "I haven't... I haven't really had time to be nervous over it yet," he muttered, furrowing his brow a little. "I guess I trust Coran enough. I'll ask him to keep Lotor away as far as fucking possible and to keep you in the room... but I mentioned it last night and he said you might have to wait outside, remember? I dunno. New arm sounds... different... I guess. I'll have to see what I can do to get the tracker out of it when we're on our own."

He paused, thinking. "It'll be weird. Not having Zarkon's arm. Don't really know how I feel about it yet..."

It was true. Shiro couldn't quite tell what that strange mixture of feelings was -- the one that would bloom about his system whenever the idea would occur to him. He felt a soft presence of relief... and then a few pinches of fear here and there... and then maybe even sorrow... or guilt... Shiro kind of lost track of the mutant emotion festering in his chest from there. The only reaction he could wholly recognize was the confusion that would spin his mind about like a top. Shiro shook his head, and rose his shoulders a little.

"I guess I'll figure it out."

"Huh," Lance mumbled. "I guess so."

He took the phone to order the bagels, deciding not to dwell on the topic any longer and instead, just to move on to breakfast. His stomach rumbled loudly and Blue let out a low growl in return, receiving a few pats on the head for being such a good guard dog against Lance's horrible stomach rumblies.

"Ah, yes," he murmured to himself as he scratched behind her ears. "The one true threat to my life, isn't it? Being hungry. Nothing about mafias or my inevitable demise that will likely be because I'm shot- It's because I'll be feeling peckish, won't it? Good girl, growling at the evil hunger." His tone was soft and high-pitched, babying the beautiful dog that sat on his lap and looked at him with pride in her eyes, as if she had actually done anything and Lance wasn't just mocking.

Shiro gave a soft snort, watching Lance make a fool out of himself with a sense of amusement that felt nice against his confusion. "You sound... so dumb," he joked, rolling his eyes while Lance flushed an embarrassed pink.

Shiro slipped from the covers, gave Lance's hand a soft squeeze, let go of that hand, and then slid from the bed. He stretched out his arm, and then reached his hand over to massage the opposite shoulder. The skin about the leftover hunk of metal was still stinging and a bit pink. He suddenly wondered how the skin would look after his real operation. It made some of that nervousness Lance was talking about settle in his stomach.

He had surgery plenty of times before. There had been the removal of a bullet lodged in his thigh, then there had been those two times where he needed internal injuries to be fixed up, and then of course there was the first mechanical arm procedure. When he was in third grade, he also had his appendix removed. He knew there was no reason to worry to much -- especially if the operation was to be done mostly on a fake arm rather than any important organs or features -- but he couldn't stop the animal uneasiness. The fact that the surgery was being done outside of a real hospital and by rather unprofessional hands made him a bit more wary on top of all of that.

Shiro suddenly wished Lance didn't say anything.

Shaking his head, Shiro looked around for his bag and nudged it open with his foot. He leaned over and grabbed a pair of looser sweatpants, and a white muscle tee -- Coran's warning about wearing a sleeveless shirt to the operation ringing clear in his head. He set the clothes on the bed, and began try and pull off his shirt, back decently faced towards Lance. It proved to be... rather difficult with only one arm. Shiro took a few tries, but in vain -- only managing to knock his glasses from his face about three times and make himself frustrated. After his final attempt, Shiro turned around and faced Lance, eyes thrown a but shamefully towards the ground.

"Could you... do you think you could...?" Shiro couldn't even spit it out. His face was flushed in so deeply he felt as though his skin had been burning. He gave a huffed sort of sigh. His voice was bitter and grumbled when he spoke. "I... I need help. Never done this one armed before."

Lance snapped his fingers and Blue leapt to the floor, allowing him to slip out of bed and approach Shiro. He took ahold of the edges of the shirt and tugged it over Shiro's head, pulling it off of him and throwing it aside, then tugging the tee on in its place.

"Are you going to be able to do your pants yourself or am I going to have to dress you like you're a toddler?" he asked playfully, smiling up at Shiro. And to think he was threatening. Right now, he was not only entirely harmless, but entirely useless. It was quite cute to see him needing help.

Shiro, in an effort to keep the fire from his blush down, smirked, and decided to turn the tables. "Are you asking to get in my pants, Lance McClain?" he asked slickly, raising his eyebrows a bit. Shiro shook his head. "I can do it on my own." His second little bit was a chuckled add on, fitted with a roll of his eyes. Lance, on the other hand, had not been nearly as successful in taming his blush. Thankfully, the door was knocked on and a voice outside called room service.

Lance approached the door and opened it, taking a tray of his food and mumbling his thanks, trying to act like his face wasn't the colour of a tomato as he began toward the bedroom again. He sat on the bed, telling Blue to sit on the floor as he began to eat. The bagels were pretty fucking good and he was happy to have an excuse not to talk.

Shiro had been sitting at the edge of the bed, tugging off the jeans he had fallen asleep in from his legs with more success than he had gotten with his shirt. In no time, the switch from jeans to sweatpants were made, and Shiro was blushingly sure Lance hadn't quite been able to see his legs -- making certain purely out of decency, of course. He wondered for an instant if maybe his joke had been too much... maybe a little too vulgar for Lance's taste... but he shook the thought away. It was payback, he guessed. Lance made him blush -- he just had to do it in return.

Shiro glanced at the digital clock perched upon one of the dressers. The time told him it was only thirty minutes or so away from when Coran had told him to meet so they could begin preparations for the surgery. Shiro's nerves gave a soft swell, his stomach suddenly feeling just a bit too ill. Quickly, he tried to think of something else.

"So, you ready to become a librarian, or whatever?" he asked with a sigh, leaning up off from the bed. Shiro tried to cross his arms, remembered that he was missing one for what had to be the fourth time that morning, and instead settled with a hand on his hip. "Selling books and stuff. In England. The accents are gonna be so weird. Gonna take some getting used to." Lance laughed softly through his mouthful, waiting a few moments to swallow before speaking.

"I'm excited. Nervous but excited, to be honest with you," he said with a warm smile on his lips as he stood. He approached Shiro, fixing his shirt a little and then reaching up to tame his hair. "Are you going to change your hair at all? It's nice, I'm just curious. I want to get mine cut short. I'm going to have to change it either way. Would dyeing it be too much?"

Shiro blinked a little. He reached up to touch his bangs, almost feeling offended. "My hair is like... my trademark," Shiro said with an over exaggerated gasp. He ran his fingers through it some more, thinking. "But... but I guess that is the point in changing it... shit." Shiro slumped a little, giving a soft pout. "I could dye it back to all black... but that's so boring... ah, hell. I'll figure it out after we move. But nah, I think you could dye it. It could look cool."

He leaned up straight and sighed, placing his hand back on his waist. "How do your arms feel?"

"Shitty," he answered after a few moments. "It really hurts but I'll take some painkillers and let Blue kill them better," he said with a smile. He whistled and called for Blue, who came trotting over and jumped up at Shiro. Both hands were placed on his leg as she looked up at him. Her tail wagged and eyes shone as she let out a few happy yaps.

 

Lance wrapped both arms around her from behind and fell onto his back on the floor, holding her to his chest as he hit the floor. Her tail continued to thud happily as she barked and yapped, turning her head to try to lick Lance's chin. Evidently, despite how badly his arms hurt and how much his head throbbed and the residue from the tears he had shed still being on his face, Lance was in the mood for goofing around and playing with Blue.

When he released her, she rolled onto the floor- only to plant both paws on his chest to trap him in place as she licked his face. Lance didn't mind too badly, laughing as he looked up at Shiro.

"Help me~" he called with mock drama in his voice. "She's got me! This will be the end of superstar and loverboy Lance McClain unless Shiro the hero can step in!"

Shiro gave a soft blush and laughed. He held his ground for a few moments before Lance's fun attitude inevitably got to him -- infecting and muddying his tougher reputation. With a sigh, and a natural roll of his eyes, Shiro made his way over to Lance and plopped down. He grabbed Blue's collar and tugged at her lightly, pulling her from Lance's chest. She listened a bit begrudgingly, but then found her joy in simply plopping down onto Shiro's lap. Shiro gave a sarcastic huff and shook his head.

 

"Looks like Shiro saves Prince Charming yet again," he hummed, offering a wink. "I am the true hero of our trying times." Lance sat up and pecked his cheek lovingly, a grin on his lips.

"Yes, you are. My hero," he said with more mocking melodrama, finally standing and straightening up. He stretched, arms over his head, and grumbled a little. "I don't want to do stuff today, Shiro. I want to stay and cuddle you and wrestle Blue all day."

He moved to the bed again and sighed a little, stopping before he sat down to go to the windowsill and collect Black. He lifted her up and held the gorgeous cat in his arms, scratching under her chin and behind her ears as she mewled.

"We have two very different pets. It's nice. I didn't think that Black would ever warm up to Blue."

Shiro gave a soft laugh, humming in agreement. "She's slow to liking new people — let alone new dogs," he said slowly, smiling at the way Black invited Lance's pets. "But yeah. With what you said before... I couldn't agree more. Sounds like this whole arm thing is gonna be exhausting, if anything." Lance nodded and offered up a smile.

"Good luck," he said as he held out Black near the ground, only for Blue to gently bite the back of her neck to lift her from his hand. He slowly released her and pressed a kiss to the top of Blue's head, glancing back at Shiro. "You won't yell at her for this again, will you? It doesn't hurt Black when she does this."

 

Shiro offered a nervous frown, but it was all he did.

Lance knelt down in front of Blue and pet the top of her head.

"She used to have puppies, you know. I was told that when I adopted her. I wasn't told too many details but I think that that's why she took such a quick liking to Black." The cat was now beginning to meow loudly but it wasn't the same yowling as the last time that Blue had lifted her up. Blue jumped onto the bed and set her down, curling up around her and licking her clean. She'd taken an evident liking to Black.

Shiro nodded but he didn't say anything. Instead, he watched Blue and Black on the bed for a bit, before flicking his gaze upon the clock again. Only fifteen minutes remained until he would have to be downstairs. Shiro gave a soft sigh, stood up from the floor, and brushed himself off. He rubbed his shoulder again, the gleaming metal of the remains of his arm glittering in his peripheral.

"Are you done eating?" Shiro asked gently, biting the inside of his cheek. "I kind of want to get downstairs early. Have Coran walk me through everything again. Especially since he said he would plan out what he's gonna do with all the metal inside my arm."

Lance nodded, suddenly uncomfortably silent. He took Shiro's hand, about to leave when he realised that he was still barely dressed. He pulled back and found a pair of Shiro's sweatpants and tugged them on, not wanting to have to rummage through his bags to find the pair he had buried at the bottom. His eyes flickered to Shiro.

"Are we ready to go?" he asked after a moment, taking his hand again and intertwining their fingers. He hoped that he wouldn't have to leave the room while Shiro was undergoing the operation. The idea of being alone somewhere like this was honestly a little intimidating. As much as he hated to admit to being so scared, he doubted he'd be able to be on his own.

Sure, he could be with Allura, but she might be different while she's here. He didn't know anything about Lotor but from what Shiro had said, he didn't want to be around him, either.

He'd either retreat to his room or sit outside and refuse to interact with anyone. Whatever happened, he'd make sure to be back with Shiro when he woke up. He'd also probably tell him that he hadn't left- he'd not want Shiro knowing that he had had to leave for the operation when Shiro had specifically requested that he was there.

Shiro gave a nod, smirking at Lance's choice in pants. They looked a bit big on him — most especially big beneath Shiro's old shirt. He decided to keep from commenting, rather settling on a shake of his head as he opened up the door to their bedroom. Blue bolted past Shiro and Lance, free from her single roomed prison to run about the hotel suite. She bounded atop the couch and spun about in a circle, before settling herself into a smiling sit. Black tread her way as well, hopping up onto the entertainment center to watch Lance and Shiro leave. With a soft call goodbye to the pets, and a mutter to Lance about checking up on them during the operation maybe once or twice, Shiro opened the door, held it for Lance, and then closed it gently.

The hall was dark — the other customers of whatever hotel they stayed in were all still contently asleep or in their beds at least. Shiro, Lance at his side, navigated the halls in search of the elevator. In no time, the two had been outside Coran's open office — which was downstairs, situated in the corner of the lobby. Shiro peered inside.

The strange cot he had rested on the night before was still in the center of the room — only then it had been covered by a pale blue sheet. Gleaming trays of bagged, sterilized surgery tools were placed at each side of the bed. The lights of the windowless room were bright. Everything looked abnormally clean — sterilized, no doubt. It all still set off a sort of alarm in Shiro's mind. The unprofessional setting made his stomach twist. No amount of cleaning could change he was about to have surgery in the middle of some Arus Mafia hotel. His hand clenched a little tighter against Lance's. His lips pulled up in a frown of nervous apprehension.

Coran was sitting at a desk, mapping out something on his computer. Beside him was a large suitcase — thick and heavy looking. It was locked. A keypad, likely waiting for some sort of code, sat beside one of the latches. Shiro eyed the case as he stepped in, Lance behind him.

"Hey, uh, Coran?" He asked politely, cocking his head.

Coran spun around, lighting up. "Oh, hello! You're early," he said, warmly. He turned his chair back around, tapping on his keyboard. "I see you brought Lance with you. Hello Lance!"

"Hey, Coran," Lance replied as gave a firm final squeeze to Shiro's hand before releasing it. He approached and pulled up a seat to sit by where Shiro would be sat- on the side that he would be able to hold Shiro's real hand without being in the way. He kept his eyes on Shiro. "Any idea how long this will take?" he asked him after a moment, both to get some idea of how long he'd be here and to give him some sense of comfort, so he could tell himself how much longer he'd need to be nervously sitting beside Shiro and praying that it would work out.

Coran rose his shoulders a little, and turned away from his computer, clicking it off. "It depends," he answered, standing up. "It could either be two and a half hours with one approach, or at the least eight hours with another approach."

Shiro rose his eyebrows. "Eight hours? At least? Jesus," he muttered weakly, making his way over to the cot. Shiro stepped towards Lance, and stood beside him rather than sitting down. "By all means — take the shorter one."

Coran gave Shiro a nervous look, rubbing the back of his neck. "I- well that's the thing. The machinery in your arm goes all the way up to your shoulder. The quickest and safest way to get rid of it all... is just..." Coran trailed off, obviously groping for his words. Shiro urged at him, rolling his hand about in a prompting motion.

"I would just have to cut it all off. Amputate from the shoulder."

Shiro froze. He felt the color drain from his face. Instinctively, he shot a wild look at Lance.

"Of course-" Coran started in a sort of exclamation when he caught sight of Shiro's panic. "If that makes you uncomfortable we could just go with the original plan. It's a little riskier and will take a heck of a lot longer — but by all means Shiro. Whatever you want. It's your arm." His voice was calm and kind.

Shiro lifted his hand to his head. His eyes were on what little was left of his right arm. "I- I don't know about cutting it all off I mean..." he trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

"Shiro," Lance's voice came, soft and delicate yet still firm. He was clearly aware that Shiro would spiral if someone didn't just kick some sense into him. "Removing it from the shoulder isn't getting rid of everything. You will still be getting a fully-functioning prosthetic to replace this one, it would just start a little higher up your arm. It would save hours of surgery, prevent a lot of risks with the process," he smiled a little. "Don't you think it'd be the better option? It's not like you're losing your other arm, too! And I won't leave your side. I'll make sure that everything goes perfectly. I won't be able to do that if it's an eight-hour procedure. Not for the full time, anyway."

Coran opened his mouth to deny Lance — to tell him no matter what he'd have to leave the room — but then he stopped, understanding it probably wasn't the right time to say anything.

Lance was just hoping that he was helping. He had a bad habit, in times like this, of saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong time. He just wanted the operation to be quick so that Shiro could get used to the new arm and have less ties to the mafia sooner. Besides, he wasn't too good with excessive gore and he would rather not sit there for eight hours while each piece of metal is painstakingly removed from Shiro's flesh.

Shiro gave a sigh, turning his gaze to and from Lance and Coran, trying to read their features. "I mean... if... if it'll be safer then..." He paused a moment, giving a soft huff of indecision. "Alright. Whatever. Jesus- I guess so. Yeah, Coran. Go ahead and cut it all off."

Coran smiled. "There we go!" he said in a joyful cry. He stood, brushed himself off, and made his way over to Shiro and Lance. Politely, he gestured Shiro's metal chunk. "May I?"

Shiro nodded and turned. Coran, gently to keep from getting on his worser side, put a gloved hand on Shiro's shoulder. His other hand traced a finger just above Shiro's upper bicep muscle. "We will probably have to cut right here — maybe go up a bit more. Depending on how intricate and deep the wiring goes," he explained, looking to both Shiro and Lance to be sure the two understood completely. "The prosthetic is... well it's different. An entirely new sort of technology. It's safe to say you are one the first people in the world use it. The design is magnetic, almost. It lacks the upper arm area- just has the forearm."

"What?" Shiro asked, furrowing his brow. His mind felt spaced -- already overfed with information. Shiro's system had still been dwelling on the idea of losing more of his arm, and didn't seem very willing to process any more information in the moment."You're losing me."

Coran laughed, and pointed to the wall behind them. "It all explains it right there."

Shiro followed Coran's gesture, and looked over his shoulder towards a large, flat screen, and upon it shone strange looking blueprints. He studied it a moment, noting that Coran's description had been correct. The prosthetic was, in fact, just the forearm, which floated with a seemingly magical effect beside a larger, circular piece of glowing metal. Shiro narrowed his eyes, and looked back to Coran.

 

"That doesn't make any sense," he muttered. "You're sure this is gonna work?"

"Oh! Yes. We got the new tech straight from certified government testing from one of the Arus spies we've got planted around. We decided to create prosthetics with the material," Coran explained proudly, puffing his chest. "The Atlas--which is what your arm's model is called--is a high grade prosthetic made for nothing but simply... being a prosthetic. You won't be fighting much with this one, I'm afraid."

Shiro stayed quiet a moment, skeptical. His hand had found Lance's again, and held it a bit unconsciously tight. "This is the only one you have?" he asked, trying to keep his tone from being so sour. "Why does it have that weird gap?"

 

"Mobility? Stylistic choice? Your guess is as good as mine," Coran answered with a shrug, moving back to his computer. "We will begin prepping you for the operation in about ten more minutes or so. Allura and Lotor should be down here soon. You haven't eaten, right?" After getting a bitter nod from Shiro, Coran continued. "We'll put you under, amputate the Galran tech from your arm, and then attach our own. Hopefully you'll be awake about an hour or so after that. A little drowsy from the drugs, but other than that you'll be tip-top and ready to start your new life abroad. Any questions?"

"I don't think I have any," Shiro murmured a bit numbly, blinking. He looked to Lance, frowning. "Do... do you?"

Lance's eyes flickered from Shiro to Coran and he shook his head. He was trusting that this would work out. If he did have any questions, he wasn't going to waste time by asking him about them when it would be quicker to have Shiro under so that he could just find out.

Despite still being a little on edge about the entire ordeal, Lance just turned his attention to Shiro. "I won't leave your side," he promised. "I owe you that much. You can trust me, Shiro, and I won't let anything happen to you." He didn't know why he was suddenly protective. It wasn't like he could normally say he was going to protect Shiro and not be laughed at for it. Shiro was strong, cool, and more than deadly, so when he was going to be unconscious for an operation- Lance wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it. All he knew was that he would rather help Shiro by being here for him and at least trying to stop anything bad from happening- so that was what he was going to do.

You can trust me.

Shiro, for what had to be the first time, trusted Lance without a second thought.

"Alright," he said, nodding. His hold against Lance's hand tightened a bit more, his thumb moving about in small, nervous circles about Lance's skin. Shiro let out a long breath, trying to push out his sudden worry. "Yeah. Alright. I trust you."

"Good," Lance said with a soft smile as he pulled Shiro to sit down. "Now let's get this over with, yeah? Then you can use your new hand to strangle Lotor and we can go cuddle, okay? How does that sound?" he asked as he began sorting Shiro's shirt and beginning to brush his hands through his hair to tame it a little.

Shiro gave a soft laugh, liking the way Lance's jokes distracted him from his skeptical worries. He leaned forward, inviting Lance's fingers to brush at his hair. "I've been thinking," he said, trying to change the conversation. "Why don't I just say screw it and go all white, huh? Show these two Arus assholes how to really rock the whole white-haired look?"

Almost as if their mention had been a sort of summoning, a soft knocking came from Coran's doorway. Shiro looked over Lance and scowled at the two figures in the doorway. He gave a sharper, bitter huff, and rolled his eyes.

"Speak of the devils," he muttered under his breath, pressing a little closer to Lance. Shiro turned back to Coran, who had been opening his mouth to greet the two. Shiro cut him short. "They're not gonna be here while I'm under, right?" His question was loud and childishly cruel.

Coran gave a frown. He casted a nervous glance towards his two bosses. "No they won't," he answered, trying to sound cheery, as he was trying to brighten the considerably bitter attitude of the room.

"You'd look good with white hair," said Lance as he watched him, amused. His voice dropped to a slight whisper when he spoke again. "Show the Arus assholes how much better you'd look," he teased. He pressed a kiss to the back of Shiro's hand. "Good luck with this. We can get the bleach later today, perhaps."

Lotor came close and Allura was by his side. She spoke first.

"The procedure will begin in a few moments. I assume that you are fully prepared for it and that you've chosen which operation you'd prefer."  
"We'd not want you to be uncomfortable. We will have cameras operating in this room during the entire procedure so that if you want to watch the operation or make sure that nothing had happened. That should give some comfort."

Shiro disregarded them, and instead, remained turned and focused on Coran. "Let's just get this over with," he said tiredly, biting at the inside of his cheek. "What do I do first, doc?"

"Lay down on the cot and I'll check your vitals," Coran instructed, groping for some medical tools he had sitting about his desk. "After we make sure everything's all fine and dandy, I'll go ahead and put you under."

So that's what they did. Shiro, with Lance's steadying hand on his shoulder, climbed up on top of the medical cot, and got himself comfortable. He felt vulnerable, laying there on that cushioned medical bed, the eyes of four staring down at him. He closed his eyes and waited for Coran to come by with his stethoscope.

As expected, Shiro's vitals were fine. His blood pressure was the only thing Coran found a bit troubling. He said, a little dismally, that it was bit too high from all of the emotional stress he'd been put under. Shiro blushed and said he felt fine, but Coran dismissed this and gave him an early on sedative to calm him down some. It was a soft, pinching injection Shiro had never heard of before. He wondered if it had been another experimental sort of medicine, and promptly shuddered. However, his blood pressure stabilized in a matter of minutes, and when it did, Coran put his supplies on his desk, and dragged over a large, groaning cart. The cart was fitted with some sort of machinery hooked up to some sort of ventilation mask. Shiro watched it a bit nervously.

Coran picked up the mask with his gloved hands, and, after asking delicately for permission, pulled it over Shiro's head. Shiro blushed again, feeling as though he looked stupid. He held Lance's hand tightly, his heart still pounding despite his light sedative.

"I'm going to put you under now. When I say go, count backwards from ten out loud," Coran told him gently, leaning down to fiddle with the machine.

"Backwards from ten?" Shiro asked, his tone embarrassingly muffled by the mask.

"Yep," Coran said. He flicked a switch, turned a knob, and with a moment's pause, pressed a button. "Go on and start counting, Shiro."

Shiro, in a skeptical tone, began counting. Halfway through seven, despite his feeling completely normal, Shiro's eyes rolled and his head turned listlessly to the side, his numbers leaving him. His hand relaxed against Lance's, and his world faded into a deep black.

Shiro was out cold in a matter of seconds.

Coran turned the dial back some on the machine, but he kept the mask on. He leaned up and turned to the guests of his office. "Unfortunately, all of you are going to have to leave. Lotor because Shiro specifically asked for it. Allura and Lance because my protocol doesn't allow people without the right training in the room during an operation. You can watch from the live feed, though. I didn't want to say anything in front of him — he was freaking out enough as it was."

Lance's eyes widened. His hold on Shiro's hand tightened. "No- I can't leave him! I promised him that I would stay with him! Please, Coran," he began as he looked at the male on the table. He had promised that he would be with him during this. "If I have to leave, can you at least make sure that I'm here while he wakes up?" he asked, working his bottom lip between his teeth anxiously. He didn't want Shiro to wake up thinking that he had abandoned him, he wanted Shiro to wake up and see him by his side.

Coran's face turned with guilt. "Oh, of course. As soon as he's out of surgery, you can come and wait at his bedside," he promised. "The only reason you have to leave during the operation is that if something unexpected happens — which is very unlikely but still possible — you wouldn't know what to do."

Lance was quiet for a moment. He glanced away, biting his lip. He really didn't like the idea of not being around Shiro for this but he didn't exactly have a choice. He pressed a kiss to the top of Shiro's head and somehow managed to pry his hand away. He spared another glance to Shiro before he left the room.

"Be really careful with this," he called to Coran before he left.

His first method of action was to go to his room, to retreat there for a short while so that he could be alone, somewhere quiet. Then he realised that he might be able to walk around outside while he was in another mafias territory.

After a short conversation with Allura, Lance was allowed to take Blue to the park and a cafe with her supervision. That or Lotor's- he picked Allura.

Once blue had her leash on and Black was content being curled up without the dog accompanying her, Lance began the walk to town. Allura would be contacted when the operation was over and, as the park was only five minutes away, Lance would be able to return and would definitely be there for when Shiro woke up.

The walk was slow. Lance took his time taking each step, relaxing and taking in the fresh air, the feeling of concrete beneath his feet, hearing other people's voices and letting Blue stop wherever she wanted to sniff trees or fences or bushes. Every little simply luxury he had missed while he'd been cooped up inside, he made the most of it. He desperately wanted to be alone for this but he knew better than to take that risk. Being alone, a new face, made him a target or a threat or a risk. Being alongside Allura, their respected leader, meant that he was trusted and safe. As grateful as he was for it, he longed to be alone. He ached for some time, just him and Blue, where he could do as he pleased and make the most of it without having to answer invasive questions about where he met Shiro, when he was abducted, etcetera.

As casually as he answered them, he didn't like thinking back to when Shiro had broken into his house and scared him to death in the middle of the night. He didn't like thinking of when Shiro busted his cheekbone- something Allura said that they would deal with. He didn't like to think of having to hide in the food cupboard when Sendak first came over. The memories of every little event hung over him and he hated it. The last thing that he needed while he was trying to go for a relaxing walk and take his mind off of Shiro's operation was to be thinking of Shiro. It wasn't like he could ask her any questions about her mafia, either, so it wasn't a fair thing. He was asked question after question and gave answer after answer. Whenever Lance asked anything, she'd simply raise her hand to silence him, mutter that it was classified or unimportant, and ask him something to change the subject.

When they got to the park, she asked him if Shiro had forced him to kill Sendak. Lance changed the subject by removing Blue's leash and excitedly shouting.

"Go on, Blue! Run around and have fun! We can come out for walks just about everyday again now!"

She got the hint that he didn't want to talk about it, much to his relief.

He settled on a bench and watched Blue as she ran. He stayed silent- unusually so. He still wore the baggy clothes and Shiro's shirt. They were comforting to wear. The clothes reassured him, the clothes told him that Shiro trusted him. Though that made him feel guilty- Shiro had trusted him and he hadn't even put up a fight when he was told to leave.

Regardless, he focused on the sky. The smell of the air. The sound of the trees rustling as the wind ran through the leaves and the branches. His thoughts drifted from each aspect of being outside that he hadn't gotten to think of how much he missed.

Maybe, wherever they went, they'd be able to go to a beach. A beach or a lake or a river or somewhere with water. Somewhere that he could swim where it wouldn't be a public pool and there wouldn't be hundreds of others.

He missed going swimming and he missed being outside in the rain.

And yet, as soon as the trip had begun, it was over.

Allura's phone pinged with a message while Lance, sitting on a bench beside her, threw the ball for Blue to fetch. When she retrieved it, Lance clipped her leash and began leading her back with fast steps. The cafe could wait for another time. Allura had to jog for a moment to catch up with him before walking alongside him, directing him back without starting conversation.

She could see the worry, the determination in Lance's eyes.

When they returned, Lance damn near slammed the doors open to return to being beside Shiro. Blue was left with Lotor, who was sitting outside. Allura stopped at the door to join Lotor.

Sitting down beside him again, finally, Lance took ahold of Shiro's hand, his human hand, and cupped his cheek. He ran his thumb along his cheekbone.  
"I'm sorry I had to leave," he said in a soft voice barely above a whisper. "I'm here now. I'm here and I won't leave you. I'll be here for when you wake up."


	19. A Bad Trip

/"It wasn't me."

A repeated mantra. A mindless answer to a tirade of questions and pain. It was his only response to every threat and every yell and every cut of a blade. Shiro just didn't know what else to say.

"It wasn't me."

His arms were tied down... yes — he had two. Two arms, bruised and cut up, but still a whole two. Shiro's face itched and tickled with the drying of his own blood from the deep gash that stretched from cheek to cheek over the bridge of his nose. His head hurt. It burned and ripped with the worst migraine one could experience— a migraine that Shiro had to admit never quite left. It was as if something had been trying to crawl its way through his brain, something with sharp claws and sharp teeth and a relentless power that would not falter.

Zarkon was there, standing in front of him. Zarkon spoke to him. The words were lost behind the blood roaring in Shiro's ears and the spinning of his mind. Shiro didn't exactly need to hear what was being asked of him — for he only could muster his one response. He kept his head down, muttering his single answer over and over again as though he'd been a broken record. Shiro didn't think. He didn't listen. He was in a dazed fug of conscious unconsciousness.

Only when he heard Adam's voice did he regain his mind.

Shiro had pulled his head up, and sure enough, there Adam was — standing beside Zarkon. How Adam had gotten there, why he had been there, what he was doing next to Zarkon with two other Galra members holding onto his arms were all the terrified questions that exploded in Shiro's system. He straightened up and shook his head, and the begging began.

He begged and pleaded for Zarkon to let him go. He admitted to crimes he didn't commit, and then failed to deliver the information Zarkon asked for. And then he begged some more. Despite all of that pleading, Shiro knew Adam was going to die. He knew Zarkon would kill him — even if Zarkon believed Shiro's desperate truths, Adam already knew too much. As Adam stood there, quivering and asking Shiro his tearful questions, he was witnessing something no civilian would be allowed to witness.

Zarkon lifted a gun to Adam's head and asked what he declared was the final question. Shiro couldn't answer, his eyes were locked onto Adam's, the tears hot as the ran down his cheeks. He tried to beg again, but stopped, feeling helpless.

Adam said something. Something Shiro didn't hear past the pounding of his head. A silent something that would haunt Shiro for the rest of his life. Something that started with "I..." Something like "I love you" or "I'm sorry". Something Shiro would never get to know.

Something that was cut off with a heavy bang.

Bang.

"It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me."/

"It wasn't me."

Shiro's eyes opened. The words had been rolling off of his tongue and his lips as he awoke — the phrase still echoing about his mind, cascading about his skull as though it had been haunting him. His opened eyes stared up at the white ceiling, burning and glazed at the brightness, wide with a sort of feral shock. Terror and grief thrummed throughout his body, but he felt too tired to jolt upright and act upon his emotions. His system had been too drugged to utter the scream he'd usually give after a nightmare. His head felt clogged, the gears of his mind all clotted up and muddled with sleep.

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what was wrong with him— why he couldn't move. He didn't know why he could remember the world of his nightmares. He didn't know if he was alone or not.

Shiro knew he felt alone.

"Shiro!" The familiar voice came, enthusiastic and happy. Relieved. "Shiro, it's done! You have a new arm!" It was a nice voice. Soft to hear, pleasant.

It took a moment for Shiro to realise that it belonged to Lance.

He spoke again after a moment. "I'll ask someone to get you some water, something to drink, you need it," he said as he pulled Shiro. It took him a lot of effort but he eventually managed to get Shiro into a position where he was sitting up, moving to perch on the edge of the bench beside him. "Shiro, how are you feeling? Is your arm working?" he began, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes, scanning them for any kind of sign that he was listening.

But no, Shiro's eyes seemed hazy and absent. The lights were on but nobody was home.

Lance bit his tongue but shifted, sitting where Shiro's head had been resting and pulling him down so Shiro's head would rest on his lap. "You should probably stay lying down for a little longer. You're still drugged and clearly still tired," he said softly, running his fingers through Shiro's soft hair. "I'm sure Coran won't mind us staying in here until you feel better."

He shifted slightly so that he could get a little more comfortable with Shiro's weight on his lap. Surely, surely, Coran would understand how badly they needed to use this room. And there weren't any other imminent surgeries that needed to be done. This was the most important and it was almost completed.

Once the drugs had worn off and Shiro's arm proved to be functional, they could go up to their room and take it easy for the rest of the day.

Maybe they could finally watch Cinderella? That sounded perfect right now. That was exactly what they both needed. And Lance, unaware of what Shiro had dreamt of, was happily thinking of them cuddling on the sofa, watching disney films, eating snacks provided by the expensive room service (that they'd not be paying a penny of). It sounded perfect.

Shiro felt Lance through his daze.

He felt Lance sit him up and talk to him and then lay him down again. He felt Lance's hands in his hair — all of those gentle, warm touches. With every time he felt Lance's warmth, Shiro felt the daze thin. With the thinning of the daze, Shiro felt his emotions grow stronger, no longer muffled by the leftover misting of the drugs. He felt the sorrow for Adam and the hate for Zarkon... but then he felt the relief and the joy and the loving for Lance. It all bombarded him in that moment, all those feelings building up in his chest and his gut.

Some of his senses returned to him as well. He recognized where he had been — he recognized what he had been doing in Coran's office. Weakly, he attempted to clench the fist of a right hand he didn't quite recognize. Shiro's eyes caught upon the glimmering forearm that rested beside him. A numbing shock spread through him, clashing in an ugly way with his mess of festering emotions.

Shiro turned away from his new arm, too tired to think about it. Instead, he looked up towards Lance. Lance's warm smile and his kind eyes and his caring features. Something else began to surge in his chest.

It was all too much. The nightmare and the drugs and the emotions and the way he felt under Lance's touch. It was all too much. Shiro, overwhelmed and confused, tiredly pressed further into Lance's hold and began to sob.

Lance's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what to do for a moment before shifting closer. He brought Shiro's head onto his chest and wrapped both arms firmly around his waist. He cupped his cheeks and leant in, pressing their lips together slowly and lovingly. He broke away after a moment, though, not wanting to overwhelm Shiro further.

"Breathe, breathe," he said softly. "You're safe. I've got you. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. I've got you. I'll keep you safe." He coaxed his fingers through his hair again with one hand, the other still wrapped firmly around him. He was determined to comfort Shiro, to show him how much he loved him, to be there for him.

Shiro had done so much for him, it was only fair that he did something to help him when he so desperately needed it.

He continued with a soft repetition of 'it's okay, i've got you, you're safe, remember to breathe'. He needed Shiro calm.

His eyes flickered to the door and he saw Allura's face looking through one glass panel, Lotor looking through the other. He furrowed his brows, eyes narrowing into a glare, waving them away. He needed them to leave. They weren't allowed to see Shiro so vulnerable- They weren't allowed to see Shiro while he cried.

Lance had worked hard to be trusted enough for Shiro to seek him for comfort. After how Allura had assumed the worst of him and after the unspeakable shit Lotor had forced Shiro through without even knowing- they didn't have permission to see Shiro like this.

"Come on, calm down, just enough for us to go to our room. There you can cry all that you need to, okay? With nobody else able to see you. We can go to our room and sit on the sofa and you can tell me all about what made you cry. I'm here for you, Shiro. I'll always, always be here to protect you."

Shiro nodded, but continued to cry. He wasn't really listening to anything Lance had been saying... rather, he just clung to the sound of his voice. He pressed his head into Lance's chest, just letting himself sob out the discording symphony of emotions in his system. Just letting him feel and melt into Lance's protective hold.

Coran had been by one of his computers when he heard the gasping sobs and Lance's supportive coos from behind him. He turned around and glanced at the two on the cot, and let his face fall. Coran waited a bit before speaking, standing awkwardly to the side while Lance calmed the crying Shiro down.

"The drugs may be making him a bit delusional," he suggested meekly, stepping forward. Coran let his gaze find some of the monitors he had hooked Shiro up to while he had been under, and checked him. "He should be fine. His vitals look fine. It must just be the drugs."

Coran paused before speaking again. "I could sedate him again if you'd like? Just to calm him down enough to take upstairs?" Lance grit his teeth.

"No! Don't do that. I've got this under control. He- He'll be okay. I don't want him drugged again," he said firmly. He wasn't going to change his opinion on this.

Shiro had been drugged for long enough. Lance was taking care of this himself.

 

He kept talking. Murmuring to him, promising him safety, insisting that he would be safe and urging him to calm down.

He was in a little over his head, not that he was aware of it yet, with what Shiro was currently going through. In all honesty, he couldn't help him. He just didn't know that yet. He was struggling to stay optimistic, to believe that this was working.

"I love you," he said after a moment, his voice soft and barely above a whisper, his hands either side of Shiro's head to keep his face turned to him and the focus on him. "Shiro, look at me and listen to me, okay? Remember to take deep breaths. I-" he hesitated a moment, before saying it again. "I love you, Shiro. Okay? Breathe."

Shiro's face softened. His eyes went round, and his brow furrowed. Tears still slipped down his cheeks and fell from his jaw, but his erratic gasping had ceased a moment. He stared at Lance, completely speechless, completely helpless. A soft, trembling sigh escaped him, and he leaned forward, pressing his head back onto Lance's chest. He breathed — breathed like Lance told him to breathe. After a while, he found his words somewhere beneath everything that seemed to stifled him.

"I love you..." Shiro whispered in an echo. For a moment he couldn't tell if he had been confirming Lance's bizarre words, or responding back to him. That moment passed, and even in his state of ill-mindedness, and Shiro decided he had murmured that in a weak response. "I love you, too."

Lance's cheeks heated up and he smiled softly. He pressed his lips to the top of Shiro's head slowly, lovingly, before breaking away.

"We should go," he said softly. "Go to our room again. We can sit down and cuddle, order some room service, watch a film. Okay? I think that it would be perfect for us to just cuddle, just be close. I need you to take it easy today, alright? You've been through more than enough already. Today has been hellish enough," he said softly as he cupped his cheeks. He leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's yet again to continue to comfort him.

He would focus on the love later. Right now, he was dealing with Shiro and unpredictable, whirlwind emotions. Later, he could dwell on the mutual feelings they had just confessed to sharing.

Shiro's attention had still been impossibly focused upon Lance. He gave a gentle nod, letting out one of the last wheezed huffs of his sobs. He tried to say something in agreement, but the words couldn't reach him. He sniffled, and lifted his left arm up to drape over Lance's shoulders, still nodding. He didn't think he had the strength to stand and make it all the way to their room by himself. He didn't think he'd even have strength to stay awake even a little bit longer. The only thing that kept him upright was Lance — Lance's touch and Lance's gaze and Lance's voice. Shiro could only grasp onto Lance's presence, and hope it would give him the power to continue on.

Coran stepped forward, holding a small paper package. He held it out to Lance, offering a weak smile. "Here are some pain meds. His shoulder will be a bit sore for the next few days. Just give him two whenever he gets a little cranky," he explained, trying to act chipper and positive. "He's going to be sleepy for the rest of the day. As soon as you're able, please try to bring him back down here so I can check the functions of his arm. He's not really going to know how to work it for a while — he'll have to be patient."

"I'll try to get him out for tomorrow," he said as he began leading Shiro out of the room, holding his weight and struggling to support it. Despite that, though, when Allura offered to help, he still refused. Shiro likely wouldn't accept it and Lance wouldn't either.

Instead, he just worked at hauling Shiro's weight to the elevator where he could balance Shiro against the wall while he pressed the button for their floor number.

"How does it feel?" he asked after a moment. "The arm. It's not sore or uncomfortable on your shoulder, is it? Because I can talk to Coran if it is."

It took Shiro a good few seconds to realize Lance had been speaking to him. It took him even longer to figure out how to respond. "It's fine," he murmured distantly. Furrowing his brow, Shiro brought his hand up to the large metal piece connected to his shoulder, brushing against it with his fingers. Shiro trailed his touch until his hand found the absent void where his bicep should have been. Something strange clenched in his stomach. He closed his sore, puffy eyes and shook his head. "It's... it's fine..."

The memory of his dream rose and festered in Shiro's system. His stomach clenched again, this time more violent... more angry. That animal fear planted itself in his gut and grew and grew to the very reaches of his fingertips and toes. Why did he remembered it all? Why? He remembered every detailed bit of it. Adam's face. Adam's teary eyes. All of the blood — oh, all of that blood.

Shiro shut his eyes a little tighter, and shook his head a little faster. A lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back. He felt sick from all that crying — nauseous and tired. He didn't want to cry anymore.

Lance helped Shiro back to their room, struggling to keep his weight supported for so long but nonetheless having him in their room eventually. He brought him to the living room, to the sofa, and set him down on it. A soft, frustrated sigh escaped him as he stretched a little, trying to relieve the tension of not having to support someone so large anymore.

He disappeared for a moment while fetching the blanket from their bedroom. He brought it over to Shiro, moving the man's legs up onto the couch. He shifted Shiro slightly so that he would be in a more comfortable position before laying the blanket over him. He then shifted to lie slightly atop of him, taking ahold of the remote and beginning to look through the films they had available. He shifted closer, burying his face into Shiro's neck.

"Do you want to watch anything in particular?" he asked after a moment, eyes flickering to the dazed, still slightly drugged man that he was lying with. "I was just going to select Cinderella because we didn't get to watch it the other day."

"It's okay," Shiro whispered, almost feeling a bit too afraid to speak in anything louder than his breathed murmur. His head bobbed and his eyelids fluttered, the world tilting a bit beneath the sturdy sofa he and Lance laid upon. Shiro realized with a sudden pang of fear that he didn't want to fall back to sleep. His left hand searched for Lance's, the right arm still awkwardly listless at his side. Shiro found Lance's hand and held it, trying to keep his head up straight. "Don't... don't let me fall asleep... I don't want to dream again..."

Lance looked at him for a few moments before giving a reassuring squeeze to Shiro's hand. "Relax. I'll make sure of it. You can trust me, Shiro. If you don't want to sleep, then you aren't going to sleep." He leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's jaw gently.

"Now," he said softly. "Let's watch some sappy disney shit while we cuddle. Then we can order as much room service as we can get away with and dine like kings."

Shiro managed only a twitch of a smile, but it had been a smile nonetheless. A weak "okay," was his only response. It was the only thing his dreary mind had to offer. He tried to run everything through his head again, searching for something he could say to keep himself awake. "I'm not really hungry... is there water? That's... that's all I need right now..." A sudden dryness took over his mouth and throat at the thought. Water sounded great, actually. Water would soothe his migraine and cure the parched taste of his tongue. Shiro gave a soft nod, as if he'd been agreeing with himself. "That's all I need..."

"Oh, sure, yeah. I'll be back in a moment," Lance said as he slid away.

He was gone for a few moments, returning with a glass of icy water as he held it to Shiro's lips, supporting his head enough to allow Shiro to drink without straining his neck. His eyes closed and he coaxed his fingers through his soft, fond hair. "I'm not used to seeing you so... vulnerable, Shiro," he said softly as he cupped his jaw, leaning in to delicately press his lips to Shiro's forehead. "But I'll make sure to take care of you until you feel better."

His head rested atop of Shiro's. "Whatever it takes, Shiro, I'll look after you."

"Vulnerable?" Shiro echoed meekly, his voice less croaked with the soothing chill of the water easing at his throat. He looked down at himself, and gave a single sad huff of laughter. "I guess I am... kind of a mess right now..."

He, in his state of dazed drowsiness, began to wonder how much of a mess he really had been in that moment. Shiro felt the puffiness of his red, tear-welled eyes and sore, flushed cheeks, and he knew they must have looked just as awful as he thought them to be. Even with the sips of that sublime water coaxing at the roughness of his vocal chords, Shiro could hear the scratchy rawness of his voice, along with the nasally tone of someone who had been crying. He knew how often his head bobbed, and how listless and weak his body appeared. How little conviction he held in his tone and in his actions. How his new right arm sat against the sofa beside him, tentatively still with only the occasional and unintentional twitch of the fingers. Shiro knew he looked weak and helpless. He knew how pitiful he was, slumped against that couch, barely sentient as Lance tipped the glass of water against his lips so he could drink.

A husk of a man, as Sendak had put it.

Luckily, with all of that weakness about him, Shiro couldn't find any strength to really care. He invited Lance's motherly coddling with open arms for both that reason of fragility, and because he simply just wanted it. He wanted the help. He wanted Lance to hold him and brush his hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to cry into Lance's chest again. He wanted Lance to care about him and worry about him and even hold the water to his mouth to drink. Even if he knew he'd be repulsed by his own vulnerability as soon as his true senses came to, Shiro felt a sudden, powerful need for help. A need to feel not alone. A need to feel loved.

'I love you.'

Shiro's eyes began to fill with tears. They were different from before... nicer and more refreshing... but he still held them back. He felt sick to his stomach with all of those sobs from earlier. Shiro didn't exactly want to add any more shame upon his future self by throwing up. He just let his heavy eyelids fall to a calming close, and leaned his head down on Lance, yearning for comfort for an emotion he didn't really know.

Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep...

Lance ran his fingers through his hair. He set the glass down and made Shiro sit up enough for him to settle down in place behind him. He ran his fingers through Shiro's hair as he selected Cinderella to begin playing. His eyes closed, his shoulders slumped, he relaxed.

The film began to play, the soft humming of music as songs broke out and Lance hummed along. He kept Shiro close, tapping the rhythm of each song on his hand as he held him. He was hoping that he would be able to keep Shiro awake with the film playing and his own humming/tapping accompanying it. He, personally, felt that Shiro should sleep and regain his energy while the effects of the drugs wore off, but Shiro had been so scared at the idea of sleeping that he just- he clearly hadn't wanted to. Lance would usually have convinced him to sleep but the way his voice had trembled, the fear in his eyes- he couldn't bring himself to oppose Shiro if it would inspire further angst from him.

Right now, his focus was on there being a calming atmosphere for Shiro to recover in. That was what Shiro needed. That was what Lance would provide.

Shiro watched the screen before him with heavy eyelids. Occasionally, is head would nod off, and then he'd snap himself into his previous attention with a soft start and a shake of his head. Every so often he'd absently grope for the cup of water, but then let Lance help him drink it rather than trying himself in a bitter tasting vain. Shiro let the songs from the old movie before him keep him from dozing off, focusing on them the best he could — thinking of the words and the keys and the melodies of the past Disney classic. A thought occurred to him as they watched — a thought he intended on vocalizing. It took him a bit to find his words though, feeling impossibly more tired than he had been before.

"I don't think I've ever seen this before," he managed to utter after a while. His words were slow and almost said in a sort of thoughtful-thoughtlessness. Shiro spoke in a way that made it seem as though he had been focused heavily... but he had to admit his mind felt empty. Concave and numb. It was an odd feeling... but he didn't mind.

As long as the dream wasn't there anymore, Shiro didn't mind.

"I never... I never watched Disney as a kid. I... I don't think, anyways..."

"Wow, never?" Lance asked as he ran his fingers through Shiro's soft hair, smiling at him. "I watched it all the time. Even through till my teenage years, and then whenever I went home. My family and I- we'd always be bundled up by the TV in countless blankets, watching whichever film we took an hour to agree on."

He was still running his fingers through Shiro's hair, toying with the white fluff and twirling strands of it around his fingers, just enjoying the closeness. The calm that he could deal with before Shiro let his dignity take over. The calm before the storm- when the drugs wore off, god knows what Shiro would do.

Currently, the lingering effects were the only things stopping him from acting out- though he was glad that he hadn't let Coran drug him again.

He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to deal with such a mopey Shiro.

"That sounds nice," Shiro murmured, sighing a bit too cozily. He closed his eyes, despite his head telling him not to. "I... I never did anything like that with my parents. We were close, I guess, but we never did anything like that."

Shiro pressed into Lance some more, and let out another deep, long breath. "I'm so tired," he whispered into Lance's shoulder, snuggling deeper into his hold. "I don't want to fall asleep... I don't want to stay awake. But... but I don't want to dream about Adam again. I don't think I'm strong enough... What do you think I should do?"

Lance hesitated.

"I think you should sleep," he said softly. "It'll help get rid of the remaining effects of the drugs, and you need sleep." He cupped his cheek gently. "You are more than strong enough, Shiro. You're the strongest man I know."

He pressed his lips to the top of Shiro's head slowly and gently. "Sleep well, Shiro. I'll be right here- I'm not going anywhere."

Shiro smiled weakly, but he did not respond. Instead, Shiro kept his eyes in their comfortable close, and told his mind it was safe to sleep. Lance was there — Lance would wake him if he got restless, of course. Lance was there. He gave another sigh, and melted away into the power of his drowsiness.

He was asleep in a mere collection of seconds — buried a heavy, dreamless slumber.

Lance only barely managed to stay up for another half an hour. It was long enough for him to check that nothing was wrong with Shiro and that he'd not have a nightmare, but it wasn't as long as he wanted. He closed his eyes, relaxing, falling asleep shortly. He was exhausted.

He needed this more than he'd thought, and sleeping with Shiro's head on his chest was more relaxing than he had thought.

Shiro's warmth helped him to relax. Helped him to sleep.

He felt so happy to sleep with Shiro.

About four or more hours had passed when Shiro woke up. That was his guess, anyways. He couldn't quite say he knew what time he had fallen asleep, and even if he had Shiro didn't think he would be able to remember it. His head was still a bit foggy. Of course, it was much clearer and much more precise in its wonderings than before, but Shiro couldn't deny the slight daze he still felt tugging at his attention.

With a quiet groan, Shiro eased himself off of Lance, and brought a hand to his temple. His brain hadn't been aching, but it still felt wrong. Numb, like before. He tried to shrug the feeling away, shaking his head a little with a look of uncomfortable contempt.

Still mulling over the strangeness of his head, Shiro brought an unconscious hand to scratch at an itch at the back of his neck. His right arm moved with a sudden obedience, so quick and so thoughtless, Shiro almost didn't realize what he had been doing. When he had, however, the arm twitched and fell back at his side, the soft whirring of its mechanical insides humming to a stop. Shiro watched it, eyes wide. It had been the first time since the actual surgery he really had a chance to notice the thing.

It was thicker than his old one. The lonesome forearm looked heavy and buffer with metal, but when Shiro went to prod it, it moved with a light weight ease. It's fingers and knuckles looked fatter and stronger. When he clenched the strange fist after a moment or so of wondering how to do it, the thing moved silently, without the soft clinking he remembered from his old Galra tech. Shiro swallowed hard, and curiously brought his hand up to the attachment on his shoulder. A soft blue light glowed from a more concave space where his arm socket used to be. Shiro hovered his knuckles before the strange light, and felt a soft tingle of heat. He brought his hand back.

He looked up, hoping to find a mirror. The door to the bathroom down one of the halls was slightly ajar, the glimmer of the mirror inside calling to him. Shiro, pushing up from the couch a bit further gave a glance to Lance, who'd been contently dozing just beside him. Lance's breaths were even and relaxed, his features calm and gentle. Shiro looked down at him sleeping, and was suddenly reminded of the first time he had done so, the nose of his gun pointed towards past Lance's slumbering face. He gave a weak smile at the thought, not really understanding why such a grim memory would fill him with that sudden warmth.

It had to be because that was the night he decided to save Lance. That was the night, if he excluded their first meeting, that caused all of that mess. Shiro looked down at his new, Zarkon free arm, and smiled some more.

That was the night that saved him.

Delicately, as to keep from waking the impossibly peaceful Lance, Shiro stood from the sofa. He stumbled and wobbled on his feet, his head spinning a bit, and his body thrown off by the odd weightless-weight at his right side, but managed to steady himself on the wall. He used the wall beside him as a sort of crutch, making his slow way to the bathroom. Shiro nudged the door open with his toe, cast a final look towards Lance on the couch, and then slipped inside.

The lights were bright and hurt his eyes when he flicked them on. Blinking the stars from his vision, Shiro turned and looked at himself in the mirror. His lips parted into a silent awe at the strange device attached to his body.

It was a beautiful piece of machinery, no doubt. Shiro turned his body to look about its mechanisms, shaking his head a bit in a sort of disbelief. It really did float there beside him, the arm. Shiro cocked his head and groped at the empty space, not feeling the invisible power that kept his arm magnetically connected with the attachment at his shoulder. He felt it to be impossible for a moment — as if he'd been looking into a fabricated screen of some sort — but no. It was real.

Shiro blinked stupidly, and found his face in the mirror. His eyes were dark and tired, his face red and patchy with the look of someone in tears. He gave a distasteful scowl at the look of weakness about him. Out of nowhere, the magnificence of his new arm seemed to dull with the sudden ache he felt growing about the skin and muscle of his shoulder. Shiro winced and shook his head a bit more, hoping the pain would pass. It took a few moments before the heat numbed itself over — the drugs from before evidently still somewhere about his system. They were well on their way to fading. Shiro sighed and leaned against the counter. He wondered just how awful it would be when he didn't have the help of painkillers. At least he would have Lotor's weed.

Lance stirred when he lost the warmth (and the weight crushing his legs), whining a little. He had curled up, clutching one of the couch cushions and aimlessly feeling the couch as if he expected to feel Shiro lying beside him- only to find nothing.

Unable to sleep without Shiro beside him, he hauled himself up. He yawned and stretched, taking a few steps toward the bathroom- where the door was wide open.

"Shiro?" he called as he wandered through, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Shiro, where are you? Are you in the bathroom?" he continued walking through, brows furrowed, as he tried to find him, taking ahold of the bathroom door and pulling it open, one hand over his eyes. "If you're peeing in here, just let me know," he said, taking his hand away from his face after a moment to see Shiro stood by the mirror.

"Oh," he murmured as he approached. "Right." He began toward Shiro, wrapping both arms around him from behind. "Do you like your arm?"

"I guess so," Shiro said, his brow furrowed as he studied in the mirror. "It's gonna take some getting used to." He clenched the fist again, liking how he was able to do so without the creaking of gears.

A deep ache shot through his muscles again, and he winced. The pain passed as it did before, and Shiro shook his head. "Those were some heavy fuckin' drugs man. Gotta ask Coran to hook me up," he said with a huffing sort of laughter. "I still feel a little fuzzy. They're almost gone though — I can feel it in my arm... or, uh, shoulder I guess." He clenched and unclenched his bionic fist a few more times, smiling a little. "It's so quiet, right? Almost weird."

"I like it," Lance said, smiling a little as he took ahold of Shiro's hand, moving the fingers a little. "It's nice. The mechanical whirring was going to drive me insane eventually."

He moved back after a moment, releasing Shiro from his embrace.

"Are you feeling a little better now? Earlier, before you went to sleep, you were a little... a little touchy. I just want to make sure that you're okay now. I worry about you, Shiro."

Shiro's eyes widened, and he trailed his gaze into Lance's from the reflection. The memories listed back into his mind, and he suppressed a mighty cringe. "I'm fine," he muttered with a sheepish shrug, blush rising in his cheeks. "It was just the drugs I guess. They tripped me out."

He paused a moment before continuing in his almost bitter pout. "Sorry about all that. It was probably annoying and dumb," he said weakly. "From what I remember I can tell I was just a mess, man."

"No, no, don't apologise. You were really badly drugged and your upset was, as far as I can tell, entirely valid. I mean- your nightmare sounded... haunting." He looked back at him, smiling softly. "But as long as you tell me you're fine, then I'll trust you. Are you hungry? I could kill for something to eat right now."

He began out of the room, smiling. "I mean- I did tell you again and again that I wanted room service and then you fell asleep on me and I must have dozed off at some point. But god, I could kill for something to eat. You know what I really want right now? Pasta. I'm feeling pasta. I dunno what pasta yet, but I'm gonna get pasta."

Shiro followed Lance out, a fond feeling in his system. "Haha, I'm sorry about that," he said, finding his embarrassed apologies to be a bit too repetitious for his liking. Shiro shook his head, and made his wobbly way up to Lance's side. "Pasta sounds okay. Just order mine like... plain with butter or something. I still don't know how I feel about eating... let alone a full dish of pasta, you know?"

His hand was unconsciously touching at his new arm, feeling all of the unfamiliar ridges and bolted seams. Once or twice he trailed his fingers up across the reddish skin about the piece attached to his shoulder, feeling the numb ache all the way down to the nerves in his muscles. Shiro made his way to the kitchen portion of the beautiful apartment, aimlessly following Lance, who had to have been looking for another one of those menus. He stopped at the breakfast bar, the counter space a slim slab of glossy black granite. Shiro ran his hands over the cool counter, and pulled up one of the odd, more modern styled chairs to sit in. He sat upon the strange seat, and watched Lance search about the kitchen, leaning his elbow on the granite, and leaning his head on his hand.

"Did Coran tell me how to work this?" He asked, looking down at the obedient piece of machinery floating by his side. Shiro tried to move it, but to no avail. "It's almost like... if I think too hard about it, the thing won't listen." Lance shook his head.

"Nothing that I heard," he said as he picked up the phone, holding it to his ear. He ordered a bowl of pasta for himself and some noodles for Shiro. He'd figured that it was best to start with something easy instead of going for pasta. Upon setting the phone down, he approached the breakfast bar and pushed himself onto a stool beside him.

He shifted a little, adjusting the height so that he was closer to Shiro's height.

"You said a lot of things earlier that worried me, Shiro. Are you sure that you're okay?"

Shiro looked up from his arm, his eyes going a bit wide again. "I... what do you mean?" he asked in an overly dignified impulse. He shook his head, and tried to start over. "I'm fine." An echo from before. "It was nothing. I'm sure it was nothing. Just some drugged up rambles from a bad trip. That's all, Lance. I'm fine."

He turned his gaze back down again, biting at that spot inside of his cheek. Shiro didn't know if he wanted to talk about any of that... he had just gotten out of whatever hellish, drugged up state he had been in. He just wanted to leave it behind... at least for a little bit longer.

"It didn't sound like it, Shiro. It was really, really worrying. You kept saying that you didn't want to fall asleep- that you didn't want to dream again. I- What did you mean? Did you have a nightmare that was that bad?" he asked him, treading lightly. If Shiro didn't respond with hostility or malice, he'd ask more questions. At this rate, though, Shiro didn't seem like he'd be cooperative. Not that Lance could blame him.

He was just trying to be careful.

Shiro swallowed hard, his throat and his mouth a bit too dry for his liking. "I mean... I mean yeah I guess so," he murmured, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I was under and I... I dreamed of getting tortured and... and when Zarkon killed Adam. It was just vivid and I don't... I don't usually remember my dreams. Threw me off I guess." His tone was quiet and dismal -- muttered between sheepish lips and an uncomfortable tongue. Shiro shook his head a little. "I'm fine, Lance. I get nightmares. It's just... it's just one of the perks of being me, I guess. Who cares if I get a little freaked out every now and then? It doesn't even matter right now."

Lance fell silent, nodding. He leant on his hand. What was he supposed to say to that? He fumbled for a response for a moment, though his mouth decided to take initiative instead of his brain and he ended up blurting out- "I care."

Well shit. He definitely hadn't wanted to say anything, much less something like that without thinking it over. His eyes widened a little at his own remark and he turned his attention back to Shiro. What was he supposed to do? Apologise? It wasn't like he didn't care. Fuck's sake.

Shiro looked up from his arm, his eyes rounding and his stare growing a bit softer than before. He didn't know what to say -- words simply escaped him. He opened his mouth once or twice, though found his system empty of suggestions. After an uncomfortable large collection of moments, Shiro pulled something together.

"Well, I guess it's just been awhile since someone did."

What the fuck?

Where did that come from? Shiro felt his face flush hot, and he looked away -- back to the comfortable crutch that was his arm. Was that really how he felt? His left hand rose and placed itself a bit mindlessly on his chest, trying to soothe at the sudden bursting of painful feelings that misted about his rib cage. He guessed, gloomily, that it was. Why he didn't quite know until the words left him, Shiro couldn't say. The depressing thought must have been brewed up in his subconscious somewhere, kept away until he could fish it from the fucked up storage cabinet that was his heart and use it in conversation.

Shiro gnawed on the inside of his cheek, opening up the wounds from the night before. He tasted blood in an instant. Didn't he have Keith? No... Keith... he didn't feel real. He didn't feel close. Shiro couldn't deny just the mere presence of Keith had kept him from falling over the edge of that deep dark precipice more times than one, but... but he couldn't rightly say Keith really, truly cared. Maybe he thought he did... thought he was in love with Shiro... but he couldn't have been. If he did he would have asked to talk rather than ask for sex those many times Shiro called him for company. If he did he wouldn't have told Shiro in a drunken message only a year and a half after Adam. If he did he would have answered the phone.

Well, didn't Shiro have himself? Surely he cared whether or not he was okay or not. Surely he loved himself. Surley...

Shiro shook his head, and stayed quiet.

"We- Uhh- We should sit in the living room. I can get the duvet? Or- Or we could just sit in the bedroom. I just... I want to sit somewhere comfy." And he didn't like how tense the atmosphere suddenly seemed in the kitchen. "So- So whenever you're ready, go ahead. I'll wait for the food," he said as he leant on the table, giving Shiro a small smile. He also needed a moment to recover from whatever the fuck kind of a conversation they had just had. He really wasn't sure how that had made him feel but it was nothing good.

He really just wanted to wrap Shiro up in a hug and never let go of him- not until he felt better. That wasn't an option for him right now, no matter how much he wished it was. Shiro didn't seem like he would be able to handle it.

Shiro gave a quick nod, understanding Lance's intentions. He pushed off of his seat, wavered a bit on his feet, and then made his slow way to the couch. He slumped back into his spot from before, and gave a stretch. In just a mere second, however, he gave a soft outcry of pain and a cringe at the pulling of his sensitive muscles, and quickly eased back down into listlessness, reaching a hand to hold at his sore shoulder. Shiro gave out a quiet groan and closed his eyes, hissing a long breath through his teeth. It took longer that time for the pain to subside, but it did, and Shiro sighed deeply at the release of that fire gnawing about his nerves.

"I might just start to miss those stupid drugs," Shiro said in a pout, hoping to change the feeling of the atmosphere. "Did we pack ibuprofen?" His eyes trailed to his boots slumped on the matt by the door. A slick smile crawled up Shiro's face. "If not I've got some weed I can get into later. Fuckin' stole a whole bag right from Lotor's car." His tone was joking, but it was slick with a triumphant drawl of superiority.

Lance, upon slipping off of his seat, disappeared to the bedroom. He could be heard rustling through their bags before returning and throwing a box of ibuprofen at Shiro's head.

"You're not getting high until you're better," he said firmly. "But I'm not going to tell anyone that you stole weed from Lotor's car. He deserves it."

Lance took ahold of Shiro's hand and pulled him from his chair, taking him to the bedroom to release him. He left again, fetching some water, before bringing it to Shiro and holding it out for him.

"And don't take too many of them, either."

Shiro smiled a small smile. He, sitting on the bed, uncapped the bottle, shook two little tablets into his palm, and popped them into his mouth. He groped for that glass of water, and gulped down a large sip. He coughed, wiped his mouth, and set the water down onto the coffee table. "Just took two," he vowed, screwing the cap back onto the the bottle. "I wish I'll able to see the look on his fucking face when he realizes his weed is just gone. I wonder if he'll find out while we're still here and, like, confront me about it. Oh, wouldn't that be great?" A spurring of hatred bloomed in his chest. His prosthetic clenched its fist. Thoughts of Adam misted his mind for a fraction of a moment, before the malice for Lotor took their place. "That would be so fuckin' great..."

Lance came to sit beside him, smiling a little as he settled down beside Shiro.

"Try not to murder Lotor," he advised softly. "Allura might not help us if you do. They seem close," he said softly, shifting closer and leaning against Shiro, smiling a little.

"Oh, we'd figure something out," Shiro said with a sort of psh sound and an assuring wave of his hand.

Just as he got comfy, though, three louds thuds on the door indicated the arrival of their food. Lance slipped off of the bed, checked the door before opening it. He took the pasta and the noodles, turning back to the bedroom. He handed Shiro his place and pecked his cheek before settling down in the seat beside him.

"Bon appetit," he said with a small smile. He leant against Shiro again as he began eating his pasta, his free hand having settled on Shiro's.

Shiro looked into his bowl of plain pasta, his head cocked. It smelled good enough— it was pasta, for heaven's sake, which wasn't a very hard meal to cook. Shiro gave Lance's hand a squeeze and then pulled it away, picking up his fork and nervously turning about his noodles. He narrowed his eyes and looked toward Lance beside him, already half-way into his own bowl.

The mafia instinct kicked in. Shiro put his fork in his bowl, and reached out for Lance's hand. He stopped Lance before he could take another bite, pulling his fork holding hand away from his open mouth.

"Does it taste alright?" he asked, suddenly. "Nothing off about it? You don't think it's poisoned, right?"

Lance's brows furrowed as he looked up at Shiro.

"It tastes fine. Why, do you think it's poisoned?" he asked as he got some pasta onto his fork, holding it to Shiro's mouth. "You probably know more than I do." Lance doubted it was poisoned, anyway. Allura wouldn't do that. The hotel wouldn't do that. Surely, Shiro was just being paranoid. Though, now that it was brought up, it was starting to worry him. If Shiro thought it was possible, then it probably was, wasn't it? Shiro knew more about mafias than Lance did, by far.

Shiro looked at the forkful in front of him and frowned. "I dunno. I'm probably being stupid. It's just happened to me before — I... I don't take chances anymore." With that, despite his stomach still feeling full of nothing, Shiro leaned forward and took Lance's bite of pasta. He leaned back, and thought about it. "Oh, it's fine. Yeah — it was just me being stupid again."  
"Thanks for checking, though," Lance said softly as he leant in and pressed a kiss to Shiro's cheek. "Such a gentleman, making sure that I don't get poisoned by delicious pasta," he hummed as he shifted closer, closing his eyes. God, this was nice. He liked sitting with Shiro, eating without needing to cook everything.

Shiro gave a soft blush. "I can't let you die from pasta poisoning," he said in a slick, joking tone. "That would make all of this running away from the mafia kinda worthless, wouldn't it?"

He turned back to his bowl, and twirled the pasta up on his fork. Tentatively, for his stomach still felt too full, Shiro took a bite of his own food. It tasted alright — no poison there either. He took a second bite, leaned back, and gave a soft sigh.

"Do you know how long were staying here?" Shiro asked, looking around the apartment. "Not that I'm in any hurry to get to across the pond or anything. Just curious how long I have to learn a cool accent."

"Lotor said that we should be out of here by the end of the week," he said as he reached up, beginning to run his fingers through Shiro's hair as he pushed away his empty bowl. "We should ask Lotor how long until we get the documents. Do you think we'll have aliases? I don't really want to go by another name," he murmured as he shifted closer to Shiro, hooking his legs over his.

A few thoughts crossed his mind before he spoke up.

"What exactly are we, Shiro?" he asked eventually, his voice thick with hesitance. "I- I mean- We kissed and- and we hold hands a lot and- I don't know. It's just been bugging me for a little bit."

Shiro's system froze up at the inquiry. His eyes went wide and unblinking a few moments until the thrumming vibration of shock left his body and he closed his eyes. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out aside from the starting sounds of thoughtless sentences he would cut short. Shiro frowned, brow furrowing, head shaking back and forth just a bit.

"We're... we're friends?" Shiro managed to strangle out from his set of clenched teeth, hoping with all his might it had been the right thing to say. He opened his eyes, and leaned up looking Lance in the eyes. "I mean... I don't know. What do you think?"

"I don't know. I mean- We don't act like friends," Lance murmured. "I like being friends with you! I do, I just think that we're... a little more than that," he mumbled softly. "I mean- I- I said that I love you and you said that you love me, so... I don't know. I just... I was kinda hoping for something more."

The more Lance spoke the more he flushed red, biting his bottom lip and averting his eyes. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and ruin whatever the hell it was that they had. "I-I mean- I- I-" Oh god, he wasn't going to live through to the end of the conversation at this rate.

Shiro's face flushed, a hot red climbing to his cheeks. The skin at the back of his neck when warm, along with, oddly, his eyes. Shiro looked away from Lance and blinked, trying to shake that boiling feeling from his system. He cleared his throat before speaking, and tugged at his collar a little, trying to air out his shirt a bit.

"I... I remember that," he said, his mouth dry. Shiro coughed, and cleared his throat again. "I... I don't know, Lance. We're just... we're just us. Shiro and Lance. Lance and Shiro. Together- like not together but... I don't know what that even means but that's what it is. That's all... that's all I have to say..." He trailed off, blinking his eyes hard. "You're... you're hoping for something more? What do you mean?"

 

"Oh my god, don't bring it up," he said as he brought his knees to his chest, his face a bright red. "I- I mean- Just ignore me. I shouldn't have- Oh my god, I just can't believe that I said that." He felt so hot with humiliation. What the hell had he been thinking, saying that out loud? God, what the fuck was wrong with him? "Sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry."

Shiro's eyes widened again, that sharp feeling of oh no shooting throughout his nerves. He said the wrong thing. "It's okay," he blurted, sounding hasty. "Lance, it's fine. Really. I just..." Shiro tried, for the sake of Lance, to keep from prying some more, but the strange feeling inside of him was too strong. It forced the words from his tongue with a relentless power that left his common decency watching helplessly from the sidelines. "Does that mean... what you said, does it mean you want to... you want to get together together?"

God, he sounded as though he'd been in junior high. He couldn't quite tell who had been blushing harder — himself or the man he spoke to. Shiro reached up a hand to rub the back of his neck, half expecting to find a layer of embarrassed sweat residing there. He didn't really know what answer he wanted from Lance right then and there. He couldn't say. To hear yes would make him feel dirty and guilty. To hear no would likely crush his heart and his ego... but he didn't know why. He didn't want to be with Lance — he didn't want to be with anyone. Right?

You're an idiot, Takashi.

"I- Yeah," Lance managed after a few stuttering moments. "I do. I think I do, anyway. I-" His face turned even redder somehow, if that was even possible. His words seemed to have left him before he had even thought about it. He didn't know what to say. He had no idea what Shiro would say in response.

"Do you?" Lance's voice came again as he turned his attention to Shiro, feelings noticeably more relieved upon realising how red Shiro was. At least it wasn't just him.

As Shiro predicted, Lance's affirming answer spread a feeling of dirty turmoil and guilt. He didn't know why his insides seized and why his mind receded in a feeling of utter shame in himself. He felt disgusting for a good moment or so after Lance's answer, that self-loathing festering about his chest like some sick disease. Why? Why? Why did Lance's interest make Shiro feel as though he'd been the worst, most evil man in the world?

Because you like him back, dumbass.

Shiro's heart felt like it was pierced. He felt bad because he was betraying Adam. Not only Adam, but Keith as well. His reciprocation of Lance's feelings would prove everything Keith had screamed at him those few nights ago correct. His admitting of it all would mean he was over Adam — God, how could he even dare to think such a thing? Shiro stared into Lance's eyes, completely speechless for what felt to be decades and millennia. He couldn't speak the truth — he couldn't betray two of the men that were closest to his heart.

But Shiro couldn't lie, either. He couldn't betray the third.

"Yes."

The single word felt like a gasp of clean air after years of holding his breath. It might have sounded like it too. That frantic yes had stumbled through his lips in a rather desperate and breathless fashion. Once it escaped him, a multitude of conflicting feelings became present. His heart burned and roared with the flame of bitter guilt... but at the same time it fluttered and soared. His chest felt heavy, as though something large had been sat upon it... but it also felt free with release, relaxed and able. His mind provided him with a torrent of insults and degrading swears... but at the same time it congratulated him.

"Yes," Shiro repeated in confirmation, a little more steady than before. He tried to shush all of that turmoil about him. "Yeah I... I guess so. You... you make me happy. Happier than I've been in... in a while."


	20. A Talk With Lotor

And all in a moment, the humiliation and the hesitance and the regret- it all just disappeared.

Lance didn't think before he acted. Both arms latched around Shiro's neck and he swung himself onto his lap, grinning as he brought their lips together in a celebratory kiss. His cheeks were red and his heart was light and he had never been quite so happy. Not in weeks, not in months of work and sleepless nights trying to successfully figure out how to solve a case. Not in months of stress and trying to pass exams and getting into precincts. Not in weeks of preparing for a raid. Not in the days he'd spent figuring out what he would do, how the court case would go.

Not in days spend dreadfully hoping he wouldn't see Shiro again. Not in the week that he had spent in his apartment.

Not even the best moments had made him feel as good as this.

Shiro kissed him back — and he kissed him back deeply. It was the first time he had kissed Lance with the idea of relationship in his mind. The idea caused all of that inner dilemma he'd been feeling of course, but it also seemed to start a new sort of flame. A warm one, not a scalding one that roasted his innards. No, this one warmed up that bitter coolness of his soul from the inside out, the feeling of bliss patching up all of the cracks and breaks of his heart and his mind. The relieved feeling made him thoughtlessly passionate.

He reached his hand up to Lance's head, cupping his face in his own palm as they kissed. Shiro could feel Lance's smile against his own and held in a giddy sort of laughter, just trying to stay focused on the contact of their lips. It went on for a long while, the kiss. It wasn't until the two, as if their minds had been connected in some kind of way, pulled apart at the same time for a good gasp of breath.

Shiro was blushing. He casted his joyfully sheepish gaze down to the floor, biting at his lips. They tingled — almost electric. Shiro held back another laugh. The kiss and the power of it seemed to hold back all of those strange emotions inside of him. He, missing the feeling of pure contentment, almost pushed forward again to start another one. He decided against it, however, because of how rushed their breathing had been. A short break was probably for the best.

 

Lance's head tipped forward, his forehead resting against Shiro's.

He took a few moments to regain his breath, to calm down, to get the flush of his cheeks to fade.

He spoke after a few moments, when he could breathe enough to speak in more than a breathless whisper.

"So," he began, pulling away to look at Shiro with a smile on his lips, hearts in his eyes. "Does this mean that you want to be my boyfriend?" God, he thought, even though he knew that Shiro would agree, please say yes.

Shiro gave a laugh, closing his eyes. "I mean... yeah?" he said in a sarcastic sort of huff. "Fuck, couldn't you have phrased that so we don't sound like God damn high schoolers?" He let out another giggle, and opened his eyes, staring right into Lance's.

"Shiro likes Lance, Shiro like La~ance-!" he announced in a chirpy hum, grinning to himself. "Shiro and Lance, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G~!" he said happily, a grin on his lips as he watched Shiro.

God, this was perfect. He was on a euphoric high, his heart soaring and sparkles in his eyes, dramatically falling back onto Shiro's legs, still awkwardly straddling him as he lay there. His eyes fixed on the ceiling and he smiled softly. This was just perfect.

Would this have happened if they were anywhere but here? He doubted it. He really did. He was glad that everything was happening how it was. Despite how horrible this turn of events was- he was glad that everything had happened, that all of these bizarre coincidences and their consequences had brought the two of them this close.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Shiro listened to Lance's childish taunting with a sarcastic smile curled up his lips. He rolled his eyes, grinning as he shook his head. "Well, Lance likes Shiro, which is probably ten times as embarrassing," he said with a snort. His tone wasn't as kiddish and innocent as Lance's triumphant cheers, more snide and sarcastic. "A police officer all smitten for some trashy, one-armed drug lord. Oh, the shame! The embarrassment."

"The scandal," Lance added teasingly.

Shiro leaned forward, trying to catch Lance's gaze. "Doesn't that just destroy your pride? Kissing me in a tree?" Shiro winked at him, smirking.

"Oh, definitely. All of the pride that I don't think I actually had. It's truly, definitely destroyed. How dare I love a daring rogue with one arm and more muscle in said arm than I have in my entire body? So careless of me, being head over heels for someone so handsome, so dashing, so daring. Surely, it would be more of a blow to your pride for you to be dating a pig?" he asked, pushing himself up a little, hauling his weight up so that he was slightly more sat up.

The 'handsome, dashing, and daring' Shiro blushed again, his grin growing at Lance's cheesy performance. "Alright, Romeo," he hummed. "Maybe dating a pig is social suicide to a current mafia member, but for me, a newly found law abiding citizen of the United States of America, it's quite the honor I must say." Shiro leaned forward, getting closer to Lance's face. He cocked his head a bit playfully. "Boys in blue. The nation's finest, right?"

"The nation's finest?" Lance echoed, licking his lips. "My, my, this is something I'd never have expected. Takashi Shirogane, known ex-mafia drug lord, not only dating a police officer but brown-nosing? God, this is something I'll need to savour," he teased as he sat up properly, cupping Shiro's cheeks.

"Though, how can I be sure that this is you? I think I'm going to need another kiss. It's for scientific research," he announced, an air of confidence in his shameless demand for more kisses.

He shifted closer, moving one hand to Shiro's hair, tugging it to make Shiro look up at him. "What do you say, Shiro?"

"Well if it's for science..." Shiro trailed off, not even letting himself finish before he pushed forward. Their lips met, and the kiss ensued, his answer forgotten.

They kissed, the same amount of passion and fire from before, the ghosts of their previous sarcasm still hanging heavy in the air. It went on for longer, this second one did. Shiro closed his eyes, and let himself lean into it. Melt into it. His emotions, the ones he had been forcibly stuffing away during their conversation of wits, melted away with him.

Shiro loved it, to say the least. He loved how warm he was. He loved how pointless everything else seemed. He loved Lance's touch. He loved Lance's smiling lips against his own. He loved Lance's seemingly climateratic hold upon him, how impossible it seemed that he would let Shiro go. It made Shiro feel safer. It made Shiro feel secure.

Once again, the kiss parted, ending with just a few last little kisses from Shiro's side, like he had been desperate to keep from separating. Breathing heavily, his forehead pressed against Lance's, Shiro gave another giggle, his final attempts at prolonging their already endless kiss at last ceased.

"Did that give you a chance..." Shiro started, sounding breathless, "... to see if I'm the real Takashi or not? Come on, officer, I'm dying to know..."

"I think," Lance said between heavy breaths as he tugged Shiro's hair a little. "That I might need more evidence," he breathed. He leant in to kiss Shiro- this kiss shorter due to his own breathlessness but no less passionate, no less fiery, no less loving. After several fleeting, impatient kisses, he settled into the crook of Shiro's neck.

His smile was still on his lips, his cheeks red, his heart full and swelling with love. "Mm," he murmured. "Definitely the real Shiro, but I might need more kisses from time to time- just to verify it. You understand, right?" he asked as he pressed a kiss to his neck, softly, only for a moment.

God, this was perfect. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so helplessly in love. He'd killed for this man, he'd taken a life just to keep the man before him alive. And when he'd said that he'd do it again- he hadn't been lying.

He would do anything for Shiro. Anything and everything, as long as they wouldn't have to be apart.

He'd never be away from Shiro again, if he had his way. Nothing and nobody would come between them, they'd be able to live perfect and peaceful lives. No mafias, no murderers, no past trauma.

Just each other.

Shiro gave a soft hum in agreement. "Oh, of course. I understand, Romeo. You want your research to be as thorough as possible," he said almost dreamily, his skin tingling where Lance had kissed him. It buzzed like like electricity — just as his lips had.

Shiro gave another hum of contentment, his hand on Lance's back, fingertips running on delicate circles about Lance's shoulder blades. His hand trailed up into Lance's hair and ran his fingers through his locks in a sort of return for all the times Lance had played with his own hair. Shiro let out a huff of laughter at the thought. It was payback, he supposed.

Lance pulled away eventually, sitting up, keeping his eyes on Shiro.

"Now what?" he asked as he ran his fingers through his hair, leaning in and resting their foreheads together again. "I think we should let Coran know you're okay, and tell Allura that we appreciate her organising the operations and..." he frowned. "What else... Is there anything that you want to do? I mean, we don't have to do anything yet, but if there is something that you want to do, we should do that. I mean- we only need ten or so minutes to do what I said so..." he shrugged a little. "Ten minutes before we can come here and cuddle some more."

Shiro thought about it a few moments. He turned his gaze to the boots by the door, and offered a soft frown. Discomfort flooded him, along with the unanswered questions of years to come, but they vanished in an instant. They faded away into nothing when Shiro felt Lance's warmth in his soul. Feeling at a strange peace, Shiro promptly looked back, a plan suddenly firm in his head.

"That all sounds fine. There's one thing I think I need to do," he said softly. "It's kind of personal though. I'd have to go do it alone. Is that alright? I'm sure..." Shiro trailed off, hesitating. "I'm sure it won't take too long."

"That's fine! You can do that while I talk with Allura. Does that sound alright?" he asked, running his fingers through his soft hair before leaning in and pressing their lips together again. God, Shiro was as addictive as nicotine but tasted twice as good.

"Sounds fine to me," Shiro said dreamily when Lance ended the kiss, loving the high he got from Lance's lips.

Lance shifted off of his lap, moving off of the bed. He glanced down at the clothes he wore- still Shiro's baggy sweatpants and loose shirt. "I should probably get changed, though. I've been wearing this for far too long. I think I've been wearing it for two days." He knelt by their bags and began rummaging through them, taking out a pair of jeans navy jeans and he stole another shirt from Shiro- a black one this time, moving away to begin undressing. Shiro's clothes were just comfier than his, and they had the comforting lingering scent of Shiro's cologne.

"If you want to know where I got my clothes, you could just ask," Shiro snickered, pushing off from the bed.

He searched about the floor, figuring he should have changed as well. His clothes smelt of medicine and sweat, which wasn't exactly the best combination of smells if he had to say so himself. Shiro, his blushing gaze watching Lance from the corner of his eyes in dainty intervals, leaned down by their suitcases and pulled out a pair of black joggers, and some random tee-shirt. It took him a moment to take off his current shirt, his new arm proving to be stubborn, but he managed without Lance's help. Shiro changed his outfit, not liking how the empty sleeve of his tee hung over the strange attachment at his shoulder.

Shiro reached his arm over and, grasping the sleeve, ripped it from his shirt in one strong yank. The shirt made a loud sound as it ripped, as if it was crying out in pain. It made him feel guilty for a hint of a second — but the odd feeling passed quickly. Shiro cocked his head, holding the torn fabric tight in his hand. "Guess I'm gonna have to do this to all of my shirts, huh? Cut all the sleeves off... That's gonna be annoying."

"Not all of them!" Lance objected almost immediately. "I- I mean- if you cut off the sleeves on all of them-" his voice dropped to a mumble. "It'll look weird if I borrow them."

"But then they'll look stupid on me!" Shiro argued, a slick smile on his face. "They're my shirts."

"Come on, Shiro! That's just unfair on me. Your Romeo. How dare you not be willing to look stupid so that I can look great?"

Lance wrestled the shirt over his head, tugging it on despite how it was way too baggy. He tucked it into his pants, smiling softly as he walked toward Shiro. He wrapped his arms around his neck, on his tiptoes.

"Come on, not all of them. Please~?" he asked, licking his lips as he moved a little closer. "And we can go out after this. Maybe I can ask Allura if we can go somewhere for a meal sometime? That would be nice, wouldn't it? I'd like that. A nice, romantic meal with my boyfriend, hmm~?"

Shiro, still offering his sarcastic frown from the previous topic, rose his shoulders a little. He placed his hand at the small of Lance's back, pulling him a little closer. "That would be nice. I might have to wear a fuckin' mask or something, considering half this town wants to kill me, but I'm sure it would still be fun." Shiro's tone was joking and quiet, his hand now rubbing circles about Lance's back. "But then again, anything would be nice with you, I guess."

Lance's face flushed red and he settled back on his feet, pressing his face into Shiro's chest. "Oh my god, Shiro, and I thought that I was sappy. Oh my god," he said as he glanced back up at him, grinning to himself as he looked up at him. God, just when the blush faded from his cheeks, Shiro did something and brought it right back.

Shiro's eyes widened, face deepening in color to match Lance's. He hadn't even realized how idiotic he had sounded until then. "I- shit. You got me," he said in a weak, flustered tone. "Just slipped out." Shiro offered Lance a wink, and then stepped back, giving Lance a soft pat on the back beforehand. "We should get going. I want to talk to Coran about working this thing."

Shiro stepped around Lance and made his way towards the door, stopping when he felt something slink against his ankles. He looked down and smiled.

"Black! Hey sweetheart," he hummed, voice intoxicatingly sweet. Shiro leaned down and scooped Black up, holding her to his chest. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever. Are you hungry? I can feed you before we go. Yes I can. Let's go get you a snack, yeah?" He continued to baby talk her, even as he made he way out of the room.

Lance followed him out of the room, whistling and soon hearing the soft scratching of Blue's paws against the hardwood flooring as she trotted through. He knelt down and opened his arms, welcoming her loving attack as she leapt up at him, licking his face and yapping at him like she hadn't seen him for years. She put her weight on his chest with her front paws and Lance fell back, laughing, arms wrapped around her as he pulled her down, grinning.

"Can you fix up Blue's food, too? I don't think that she is going to leave for a long while," he said softly as he pushed her off- only for her to leap back onto him and yap at him, knocking the air out of him as he pet her and she gave him slobbery kisses all along her face.

Shiro nodded, already setting Black's food bowl on the counter for her to eat. He looked for Blue's food, found it, an then proceeded to to scoop her food into her bowl — all one handed. Shiro sighed, and nudged Blue's bowl forward with his foot, setting the bag of food down on the counter of the breakfast bar. He whistled for Blue, who came obediently, abandoning the slobbery Lance on the floor. She began eating, leaving Shiro to wander over to Lance. He extended a hand to the man on the floor.

"So, we talk to Coran, split up to go do what we gotta do, and then meet back up here? Sounds good?" Shiro made a list of everything aloud, nodding with each check mark he'd cover.

"Sounds perfect," he said as he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his face on the edge of the baggy shirt before tucking it away again. "Let's get this over with, hmm?" he asked as he took Shiro's hand, bringing himself to his feet.

He moved to the door, holding it open and bowing dramatically before him. "After you, Shiro."

Shiro, smiling, made his way forward, but stopped at the doorway, slipping on his boots. The weed touched at his heel, but he disregarded the feeling, stepping through the door Lance held so gallantly open for him, and waited for Lance to follow. When he did, the two made their way down the hall. Shiro reached for Lance's hand, and held it tightly all the way down to Coran's office.

The door was open, as it was before. The room had been cleaned of any sign of surgery. The sheets were discarded, as were the metallic tools Coran had used to take the remainder of Shiro's arm from his body. The only thing left that showed any proof of his surgery was the cot he had laid upon, and then some X-rays of his old arm clipped onto the wall. Shiro gave a soft shiver.

Nervously, he leaned in and knocked on the door frame. The man had been at his desk, turned about with his head in his computer. "Hey, Coran?" Shiro said softly. "Can we come in?"

Coran turned around, and offered the brightest of grins at the sight of the two. "Shiro! Lance! Hello there. Come right in!" he cried warmly, standing up from his chair. He stepped forward and offered his hand out to the two men, getting a firm handshake from the both of them. Afterward the greeting was done, Coran turned to Shiro, and his features softened. "Shiro. How are you doing? Feeling any better? Any clearer? You look much better. Not as pale."

Shiro blushed a little and nodded, looking down to the floor. "Much better. Much, uh, clearer, I guess," he admitted. Smiling a little, Shiro nodded to Lance. "All thanks to him," he added, giving Lance a warm look.

Coran's eyes widened a little, and his smile dialed up a few clicks in its brightness. "Oh! That's great, Shiro," he said. Coran looked to Lance. "Did he make it upstairs okay earlier? I was worrying you wouldn't be able to support his weight."

"Ah, I got him to the lifts eventually," Lance said with a small smile, fumbling with Shiro's hand as he held it, pressed against his side like there was a magnet keeping his head to Shiro's bicep.

His eyes flickered between Shiro and Coran. "I just figured that we should come down and let you know that everything was fine. Shiro is alive, his arm hasn't fucked up- it's all going fine. Shiro was just-"

"Hey, Coran? Allura told me that you had a-" Lotor walked in, though he stopped when he saw Shiro and Lance were in the room. His sleek silver hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, a small curl of hair falling in front of his face. He held a tablet in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket.

Today, he wore a lavender shirt with pastel blue pants and a jacket, the shirt unbuttoned from just below his collarbones. He had on eyeliner- two smooth and perfectly matching wings accentuating his eyes and a slight shimmer along the contour of his cheekbones. On the outer corners of his eyes was a touch of red eyeshadow, just to further accentuate his eyes. They were his best features- a captivating, mutated purple.

"Ah, the operation was successful!" he said with a fond smile, approaching. "I trust that Coran took good care of you. Is the arm functional? It was one of my designs," he explained as he continued inside, glancing down to the tablet. He passed it to Coran, who glanced at the screen. With a soft, 'ah, right! One of those,' he turned and began rummaging through various different kits.

Lance's eyebrows furrowed. "Your design?" he questioned, his tone sharp and accusational. Lotor nodded.

"Designed to have increased mobility, compatibility to the user, and to save materials with the," he gestured to his own bicep, "connection. Is it comfortable? I've not had many people to test it on- there are very few people missing arms around here."

"That's surprising, with you being around and everything," Shiro muttered curtly, keeping his voice low — almost as if he didn't want Lotor to heart his bitter response. Lance gave him a shove for it. Shiro shook his head and continued. "It's fine. Hard to work but I'm figuring it out." He managed to keep his voice at a deep growl — going for a pouring menace over anything too rude or rash. Shiro did not meet Lotor in the eyes with his own, and instead, kept them on the ground. Shiro turned to Coran,forcibly trying to brighten his attitude before he spoke to the old man.

"We came down here for you to, uh, check everything? Maybe tell me how to... um... work it," he said quietly. Coran had still been going through his kits, but Shiro watched him nod along. "It's like, if I focus too hard it won't do anything. My old arm wasn't like that. It was slower, I guess."

Coran, straightening up, turned to Lotor and handed him whatever he had come here to get. Coran looked at Shiro, and gave the softest raising of his shoulders. "I'm afraid I'm not the one to ask," he said a bit nervously, obviously understanding the brisk hostility between the two white-locked foes. Coran pointed a meek finger to Lotor. "He's the one who designed it. He probably knows every little thing there is to know. I just put the bloody thing on you."

Shiro's brow furrowed, and he did sort of a double take, whipping his head back towards the uninterested Lotor to the sheepish Coran. "What?" He asked, voice a little louder than he thought. "You mean you had no idea what the hell this thing was and just hooked it up to my body? You just trusted him? Him?"

Coran shrugged again, though it had been an anxiously small lift of his shoulders. "Well, he is my boss," he muttered with a nervous laugh, taking a tentative step backwards.

Shiro gave a huff, but didn't respond.

Lotor stepped forward, standing a little in front of Coran.

"You shouldn't think so hard about moving it," he advised. "It works like a normal hand. Thinking of moving it won't do anything. You just need to move it as though it were a real hand. It should work the same as your left hand. You put too much thought into it." He took another step closer, taking ahold of Shiro's hand. "Just try and curl your fingers on both hands. Don't think too much, just do it with both hands like they were both human," he said as his eyes turned to Shiro, a small smile on his lips.

Even Lance was aware of how dangerous it was for Lotor to be so close- hell, it was dangerous enough for Lotor to be in the same room! Now he was not only stood within a meter of Shiro, but he was touching his prosthetic- that Shiro had just found out he had made. Well aware of the dangers, Lance took a step back- just so that he wasn't going to be too close to Shiro if he decided to lash out. He didn't want to be within the area of impact. He'd already learned his lesson once, from being punched. He wasn't going to get hit again.

If he would interfere, if Shiro did attack Lotor, then he would do so afterwards. He wasn't going to step in halfway through any kind of attack and trust that Shiro's blind rage would cease upon seeing Lance. He wasn't that much of an idiot.

Despite the worries of Lance, Shiro kept his head. Of course, on impulse, his body seized in a heavy flinch when Lotor had reached out towards him, and his leg stepped backwards in a sort of half attempt to get away. However, Lotor took ahold of his prosthetic, and began talking before Shiro could yank it away. He listened, tense, and then tried to begrudgingly follow Lotor's commands.

His left fingers moved with perfect ease — but it took him a moment or so to get the right going. Frustration built up in his chest, his mind becoming all the more thoughtful and forceful — which caused the whole thing to just go limp all together. Shiro gave another huff, and shook his head. Why couldn't he do it? He had done it earlier. He could do the same with his left hand. What was wrong with him? He was just making a fool out of himself in front of the very man he wished to remain intimidating to!

Just do it with both hands like they were both human. The problem was that they weren't both human. How could Shiro think of his prosthetic in any human way? It floated beside him, as if it had been made from some alien craftsmanship far too advanced for any human of any kind. It was large and metal and whirred when it moved. His shoulder glowed and let off real heat. How could Shiro ever think such a thing to be human?

Dismally, Shiro closed his eyes. He tried to clear his mind — stuffing and shoving the thoughts of his arm and Lotor away with whatever strength he could muster. Shiro tried desperately to think of something else. Not of the bloodstained hands that touched his own, nor of that thick machinery floating by his side — not anything like that.

What could it be? What could he focus on?

Shiro remembered the blissful peace he felt when he was kissing Lance.

There we go.

The hand clenched. Not only did it clench, but Shiro spread out the fingers, and wiggled them, his mind on Lance. Lance's kiss. The way he had melted into it as though nothing else in the world mattered. The fist clenched again. The fingers wiggled. Shiro opened his eyes, and watched his hand move. Lotor smiled.

"There," he said as he released the hand. "It's meant to be convenient but when you're used to straining to use an arm, it's a little less convenient." He spared a glance back at Coran, moving over to talk to him for a moment in a voice too quiet for Shiro and Lance to hear. Lance approached Shiro, leaning up on his tiptoes again to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Proud of you," he hummed softly. "For working your arm and for not choking Lotor for touching you," he remarked with a smile as he shifted closer, tipping his head onto Shiro's arm. "I think you should do a little more while he's here, though. I can go and see Allura. I really need to talk to her so- is that okay?" he asked, smiling up at Shiro. "I'll be as quick as possible. I want to thank her, talk to her about my cheekbone, and then I want to ask about the progress with finding us our new house. I swear, I'll be, like, half an hour. I'll try to be, anyway."

Lotor glanced over.

"I think it's a good idea," he said despite how the conversation didn't involve him. "I think that there are some things we need to discuss, Takashi. We can go somewhere private for it but I don't like the tension between us. I at least want to explain properly what happened. Is that something that you're willing to tolerate? Or do you plan on just hating me in semi-silence until you move away?"

He brushed his hands off as he walked over to the man, now being aware enough of the situation to stand out of reach. He was a little taller than Shiro- only an inch or so- which gave him a slight benefit. A little more control over the situation. The 'high ground' to be literal.

"While you may have learned your manners in a low-level mafia, one run by a monster with no care for anyone but himself, some of us do care enough to be civil." His arms folded over his chest. "So I'll ask you one more time, can-"

"Alright, asshole. You can cut the whole I'm better than you shit. I've been meaning to talk to you anyways," Shiro interrupted. His right arm moved to his hip — without his over-thoughtful command. "I've got question and you have answers. Can't say your answers are gonna fix the shit you did to me but band-aids help bullet holes if you try hard enough, right?" Shiro rolled his eyes, and looked off to the side. He could feel the eyes of both Coran and Lance glued upon them both, and felt his face flush with pink. "We should go somewhere private. Just don't call me fuckin' Takashi again." Shiro hesitated before adding on the next part, his eyes on Lance

"Only the people I love get to call me that."

"Would you rather I called you Kuro?" Lotor muttered under his breath, an unusually snide comment for someone who had been nice up until then. Nonetheless, he strode past Shiro to find somewhere more private. "Allura is in her office right now," he called to Lance. "She'd love a visitor."

He continued walking. Through several corridors and doors and then, down a flight of stairs. He flicked the light on as he walked past. "This is the only room without security cameras," he explained as he reached the bottom of the stairs, glancing back at Shiro. It was a rather unpleasant basement, one that clearly had no uses that didn't involve bodily harm. He stood in the centre, a dim light hanging just over his head. He gestured to a chair. It looked comfortable and new. It had probably been moved down here for this purpose.

The whole situation just seemed suspicious.

"Feel free to sit down if you want to," Lotor said, eyes still fixed on Shiro, watching his every movement as if he expected him to lash out, to attack. "I'm going to stand."

Shiro casted his apprehensive glance to that ominous chair, and promptly shook his head. The bad vibes he got from the dark basement had his skin crawling already. Sitting helplessly in a chair would make him feel no better. "No thanks," he said quietly, trying to fold his arms. He stopped when he found he had no bicep to tuck his hand under. Dismally understanding that he had to kiss one of favorite stances goodbye, Shiro put his hands on his hips instead. His right arm moved with the same obedience as his left. Shiro liked that.

"Before we, uh, start whatever the hell this is, I gotta give you something," Shiro admitted awkwardly, kicking off on of his one shoe. Shiro leaned down, plucked up the baggy of weed, and tossed it at Lotor. "It's yours. I took it from your car. I don't need it — I have a shit ton packed and I've got a legal card so the airport doesn't yell at me or whatever. It's not real, of course, but it looks legit enough." Shiro stood up straight, and slipped his boot back on. "Does the UK have that? Like, am I allowed to smoke over there? Whatever. I'm gonna do it anyways."

There was a stretch of silence while Shiro thought of something to say. "I just wanna know why," he murmured after a while. "I have a lot of whys, I guess. Why did you wait so long? Why did you come out and say anything at all? Why'd you wait until Adam... until Adam died and then turn around and save me? Why are you saving me now? I just..." Shiro trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. "It all doesn't make sense to me. I just want to know everything. I've been thinking about it all for four and a half years. I just want to know..."

Lotor listened patiently, keeping his eyes on him. He didn't answer his questions so that Shiro would, eventually, get to the point.

"First of all," he said as he kept his eyes on him, tucking the weed into his pocket. "It's illegal in the UK. Entirely. Secondly, what happened between you and my father was something I hadn't known about. I had only heard of my father pinning the blame on you when I'd had an informant- a mole- tell me that he'd brought in an outsider for the interrogation."

He shifted how he was stood a little, hesitating while he thought over his choice of words. He'd been figuring out how to explain this since he'd first seen Shiro and yet, he was no closer to knowing what to say.

"I told my father that I had been to blame when I heard of what he had done to Adam. I sent the information when I first heard that he had brought him in but my father doesn't want distractions while he..." Lotor cleared his throat. "So he didn't find out until after he had done that. However, what I was doing was worth more than a life and an arm. You, of all people, should know that it takes a lot of reasons and a lot of... courage to stick your neck out for someone else."

Shiro listened with a blank face, his eyes on the ground as he nodded along to what Lotor was saying. He couldn't quite tell if he trusted him. He couldn't quite tell if everything Lotor had been saying passed right over his head. Shiro just listened, knowing never to meet Lotor's gaze.

He did, however, flick his head up at that last bit Lotor had been saying. Shiro furrowed his brow — not looking Lotor in the eyes, really, but still looking at him. "What were you doing that was worth more than the man I loved?" he asked, almost weakly. Shiro felt a little choked up all of a sudden, the memory of the dream hanging over him like a fog of pure misery. He shook his head, and tried to clear his mind. Shiro focused on the kiss from before, and let himself sigh. He cleared his throat and started over. "What... What were you doing?"

Lotor kept his eyes on Shiro, his neutral expression unchanging despite Shiro's emotions.

"There was a meeting. We had a set rendezvous point where several different families that had been threatened by my father or that had been informants for us that were close to being discovered. The meeting was snitched on. Someone that I had to deal with myself later that day, but he had told my father of the meeting and the importance of it. I was still in the Galra mafia then, so I was able to hear about both sides. My father was going to send an inferior to deal with the situation- to kill every single family and all arus mafia members that were there." His hand curled into a fist and he grit his teeth. Just thinking of his father made anger burn up inside him.

He closed his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible, taking a few breaths before beginning to speak again. "I managed to talk my father out of sending Sendak to deal with it. Instead, he sent a man called Throk. I went to the drop site an hour before the meeting was assigned, where Allura and some assistants were doing a perimeter check. I told her what was going to happen and the meeting point was changed to be several miles north of the original place. I stayed. I met with Throk. Victory or death and, evidently, I am still standing here. No word made it back of who had stopped Throk but his corpse was found a day or so later. It was across the news. My father finds out, he blames whoever he can, and an innocent life is lost in exchange for fifty-eight innocent lives saved."

His eyes settled on Shiro again. Now, nervousness was beginning to show on Lotor's features.

"I still believe that what I did was the right call. My failure to save Adam's life was not my choice. It was from a mistake that could have been prevented if my informant had told me that someone was being blamed and tortured for it. In fact, I hadn't planned on resurfacing at all. I don't expect this to change how you think of me, I don't expect you to be nicer or to change how you think of me. I just want some degree of understanding and a mutual truce."

He held out his hand for Shiro to shake, speaking again. "And I will do everything in my power to make sure that the same thing doesn't happen to Lance."

Shiro felt a shock rush through him at Lotor's outstretched hand, the feelings from hearing Lotor's story still thrumming throughout his system. He almost stepped backwards — like before, when Lotor had taken hold of his hand — but Shiro shook his head and snapped from his daze. Shiro stared upon Lotor's hand for a moment or so, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes, Lotor's last powerful avow still ringing about his skull.

He reached out his own hand — his left one — and met Lotor's. Shiro's skin crawled oddly at the contact, but he shook Lotor's hand nonetheless. He opened his eyes, and, gathering all the strength he had left, let their gazes lock. It was a powerful moment when their eyes met, their stares clasped onto one another with a bond suddenly seeming rather unbreakable. Shiro didn't let the power scare him away.

"You're right," he said, taking his hand back. "I'll never forgive you. You made a choice, though. And I guess I fuckin' respect that — even if I kinda want to kill you for it."

"If anything happens to Lance," Lotor replied sternly, "Then feel free to."

"I wouldn't hesitate even a second."

That being said, Shiro strenuously looked away to the floor. He desperately wanted to change the atmosphere, his previous statement hanging a bit too heavily in the air for his liking. "Your makeup," he said after a few moments. "It's nice. I like it." Shiro felt himself blush at the idiotic statement, and shook his head. "Are we done here? This whole fuckin' conversation has me exhausted."

Lotor's cheeks tinted red as he thanked Shiro, moving back a little. "Yep, that will be all. Thanks for talking to me about this," he said as he started back toward the stairs, smiling softly. He opened the door and began leading Shiro back through to the hotel lobby. Lance was just walking back in, talking happily to Allura about himself and Shiro, just happily announcing that Shiro was his boyfriend. She smiled patiently and nodded, evidently not as happy with the news as Lance was.

When he saw Shiro, Lance almost immediately had his arms latched around him. "How'd it go?" he asked, looking up at him with a grin. He was clearly more affectionate than Shiro was, with his constant closeness and hugging and kissing. Not that it was an issue. It was endearing.

Shiro offered a smile, wrapping his one arm about Lance to hug him back. "Pretty good, considering Lotor is still alive," he said with a wink. His tone was softer and tired, as though Shiro had been physically worn out after that dreary conversation. Shiro looked up at Lotor, who had likely been having the same sort of conversation with Allura on the other side of the lobby. "We talked. I don't get to murder him, which is fair I guess. We're at a truce." Lance grinned.

"That's good," he said as he pulled back, taking Shiro's hand. "Come on, let's go. I want to go to bed. I think that we have both earned it," he announced happily.

He began dragging Shiro to the lift, calling goodbye to the pair of white-haired lovebirds as he pressed the button for their floor. He grinned, looking up at the taller male.

"Allura showed me the house we're moving into! It's in a corner of England near Exeter, called Christow. It's a cute two-story building. We'll be living on the top floor with a bookstore as the bottom floor!" He said happily, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he looked up at Shiro. "I'm so excited. Aren't you excited? Allura said that as soon as our fake papers are ready, we can go."

Shiro laughed along to Lance's excitement. "Yeah, I guess I am," he said with a soft smile. He was dragged all the way to the elevator, and the two waited for the doors to open. "Starting a new life and everything... finally getting out..." Shiro trailed off, a clench of anxiety tugging at his innards. "It's scary but... exciting. We'll figure it out, yeah?"

"Yeah!" he says happily, grinning as he let his head rest on Shiro's chest. "In the meantime, though," he said softly as he kept his arms around his waist. "You're so handsome~ I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I- I actually can't," he said happily, eyes flickering closed. "We can remodel the whole house! I want to paint the house with you. I want to get new furniture. I- I'm so excited. Oh my god, I'm excited."

There was a ding as the elevator doors whirred open. Shiro, however, did not move. Instead he stood still, wide eyed as he watched Lance beside him. His chest was tighter, almost as if he had become anxious. A wan smile curled up his lips, and his eyes went soft as he cocked his head.

"You can't wait to spend the rest of your life with me?" he asked with a weak sort of joy. His voice almost sounded in awed — shocked. Shiro cleared his throat, shook his head, and tried to make himself sound a bit more casual. "Are you sure? You won't get sick of me?" Lance laughed softly.

"What, you think that if I was going to get sick of you, I wouldn't be already?" he asked teasingly as he leant in, pecking Shiro's lips. "I want to spend every single second of my life with you," he said softly. "And after the week we have had, I think that I'd die if I were away from you for too long."

He pulled back and took Shiro's hand, dragging him out of the elevator with a fond grin as he began hauling Shiro back to his room.

Shiro smiled along, believing him.

The two made their way into the hotel room, and then back to the bedroom, giggling and talking of the new future that stood before them. Shiro sat upon the bed, and, with his hold on Lance's hand, dragged Lance on after him. He sat up, still grinning, and his right arm moved to hold Lance's other hand without even a moment of forced hesitation.

"So, were just going to be two American boyfriends living in some random town in the UK, who own a bookstore together? God, what a Goddamned cliche we are, huh?" Shiro gave a laugh and shook his head. "We're going to England! I'm not in the mafia anymore! I have a floating arm! Christ, this is all insane."

Shiro, recognizing what he said, blinked, and let his grin falter a bit. "It's all moving kind of fast, don't you think?" Lance looked up at him, giving him a look of 'are you fucking kidding me'.

"What, would you rather you were still in the mafia and that we had a few more days to mull over our choices? Shiro, all that I can be sure of right now is that I love you and that i want to be safe. I want you to be safe. If we have to go to the UK to be safe, then we're going to the UK to be safe. If we get to live in a bookstore, great. If we don't, that's fine. I'm going to be totally honest with you, Shiro, with all of the shit that has happened to me in the last two weeks, there is nothing that I want more than to settle down with the man that I love. Okay?"

Shiro gave a nod, a sweet smile upon his blushing face.

"The man you love," Shiro echoed smartly, enjoying the way the words tasted in his tongue. He gave a sigh, and eased back, laying down upon the bed. Shiro shimmied his shoulders into the lavish mattress, giving a gentle hum of contentment. "I'm 'the man you love'. That has a nice ring to it..."

He paused a moment before adding what he felt was obligatory to say. "Well, I love you too Lance." Shiro said this slowly. Testing. There was another pinch of guilt — the memories of Adam and Keith ringing throughout his mind. "God, that feel so strange to say. I've only known you for like a week... it feels a lot longer though. I feel like I've had a dumb crush on you for forever." Shiro blushed at the word crush, and shook his head. "Christ, I sound like a high schooler again."

"It's cute," Lance said as he wrapped his arms back around Shiro. "The man I love, acting like a highschooler. It's really cute," he hummed.

He pulled away from Shiro, throwing himself onto the bed and holding out his arms for Shiro to join him on the comfy mattress. "Do you want to update me on what happened with Lotor?" he asked as he took Shiro's hand, pulling the male down to lie with him.

Shiro sighed.

"It was nothing. We just talked — cleared some things up," he said gently, shrugging his shoulders a little. "I still hate him and everything. The only thing that's new is that we're at a truce — unless he screws up again. Then I have permission to kill him." Shiro paused, thinking about it. His mood darkened a little at Lotor's compromise, the hand that held Lance's tightening a bit in a protective squeeze. "I would kill him in a heartbeat. No hesitation. Not at all."

Lance smiled a little, kissing the back of Shiro's hand. "My, Shiro," he said teasingly. "So romantic. I might swoon."

Despite Lance's attempt to lighten the mood, the atmosphere had still dimmed about Shiro — his hatred infecting the very air of the room. Shiro felt it and suppressed a cringe. It was no time for such feelings. He was with Lance and Lance was with him, hopelessly romantic and gushy. Shiro shook his head. "But yeah," he started again, tone much lighter than before. "It was nothing. How did your talk with Allura go? What did you tell her?"

Lance wriggled under the bedsheets, pulling Shiro closer to himself and resting his head on his chest.

"I told her about us. About how much you love me. Really, I was just feeding my own ego with things you said," Lance said as he looked up at him. "Nah, I'm kidding. I just told her that you're my boyfriend and that I'm lucky to have you. She didn't quite agree, but she didn't tell me outright to fuck off, so we're making progress. Your talk with Lotor should improve her opinion of you a lot. Oh, and she told me about a really nice restaurant we can go to! They'll give us a budget but it's a pretty expensive place and it'd be real romantic~!"

Shiro gave a soft huff of laughter, and cocked his head a little. "Oh, I'm sure," he said slickly, smirking. "Candles and wine n' shit, right?" Shiro gave a laugh, pushing up from the bed to lean back on his palms — which was an odd sort of position with only one arm really being able to support his weight (some design that was, Lotor) — and rolled his head to crack his neck a little.

"Candles and wine," Lance agreed with a fond smile. "Even if you seem more like a 'whiskey and bonfires' person."

"As long as it's private. Don't want to get shot or anything, you know?" he said, sitting up to stretch his back out a bit. A rush of pain met the muscle of his shoulder with an irritating shock, and Shiro flinched, reaching his left hand up to his right arm. He rubbed at the inflamed muscle, frowning. "I might need some more pain killers soon. Fuck, I can't even stretch."

Lance nodded, sighing softly. "I hope that you feel better soon, though," he mumbled. "I can go down to get Coran? Or something? We should probably get them before you go to sleep tonight," he said as he shifted a little closer, closing his eyes. Shiro was warm. It felt good to be so close to him.

"That's alright," Shiro said, settling down beside him. He hooked his arm beneath Lance's neck, and curled it forward so he could play gently with Lance's hair. He rose his right arm above them and spread out his fingers, moving them about as if he had been showing them off. "It's only when I move my shoulder too much, I guess." His voice was soft and murmured as he watched his new hand move about.

"How do you think it works?" he asked after a moment or so of thinking. Shiro rested his arm back down against the bed. "It stays next to me — doesn't float off or anything. It moved like my left arm... almost like it's real too. I just don't know how it could work so well without... magic or something, you know?"

 

Lance laughed softly.

"I'm sure that it's not magic, Shiro, but it does seem like it. It's pretty cool," he said as he began nestling into Shiro's neck, already pressed against him but clearly seeking more closeness, more affection. "God, I can't wait to move. I really can't. I can't imagine you living the quaint village life. What would you even do?"

Shiro gave a snort. "I haven't even thought about it," he admitted, shaking his head. He invited Lance's snuggles, letting their legs tangle about each other, and letting his own hold against Lance grow stronger - closer. It was a nice feeling. "Maybe I'd work around or something. I've got skills I guess. Of course, if someone needs another person... uh taken care of... I'd be able to get the job done."

"You're not going to be a fucking hitman or anything like that, Shiro. Your abilities for cleaning up blood will be used for cleaning and your abilities to cut up bodies will be used for carpentry and fixing things up around the shop. When we live somewhere new, I'm going to make goddamn sure of it that you never have to kill another person again." His tone was firm, decisive. There was no arguing with Lance when he'd made his mind up. Even if Shiro did argue, Lance would shut him down quickly and without hesitation.

"No matter what happens, Shiro, you are going to swear to me that you'll never kill anyone again, okay?" he asked, cupping his cheek. "Look me in the eyes. And say it."

Shiro was taken aback at how wildly the atmosphere had changed at his joke. He stared Lance in the eyes, his own wife and wondering. Shiro gave a soft nod, swallowing had. "Yeah," he avowed."Yeah sure, I won't. I doubt the need will ever come up, anyways."

Lance shifted back enough to bring his hand up. His expression was dead serious as he held his hand in front of his face, his little finger up.

"Now pinky promise me that you won't kill anyone," he said firmly. "And you can't break this promise. Ever," he said firmly, keeping his eyes locked on Shiro's. He didn't care that it had been a joke- Shiro's life was going to be better now. He wasn't going to kill anyone anymore. Lance was going to make sure of it.

"A pinky promise?" Shiro said with a soft little laugh. Upon seeing Lance's seriousness, however, he sobered up his attitude and offered another nod — shifting his arm up as well. "Alright," he hummed, linking their pinkies. "Alright, I pinky promise." Shiro shook their hands up and down.

"And what about you?" he had asked after their pinky-hold had been released. "Last I checked I'm not the only one with some ticks on that permanent record. Also, you did say you'd kill for me again the other night. Romantic but..." Shiro didn't finish, he guessed Lance would get the message. He wore a soft grin, hoping to hoist the topic into a lighter viewpoint as to keep the atmosphere from become too dismal. Lance smiled and wrapped his arms around Shiro's neck, bringing him in for a kiss.

"You don't need to worry about me," he said softly, closing his eyes as he let their foreheads rest against each other. "Just focus on keeping your promise, alright?"


	21. An Intoxicating Date Night

They must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing Lance knew, he was being woken up to the sound of loud knocking on the door and Allura's irate voice shouting for them. He slipped out of bed despite how much he wanted to stay with Shiro and in the warmth of the bed, opening the door. He only narrowly missed Allura's fist as she attempted to knock on his face by accident.

He grumbled and rubbed his eyes tiredly, looking up at her.

"It's about time you answered the door," she said irritably, exasperated.  
"How long were you knocking?" Lance asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Only about ten minutes! Lotor said that he forgot to give these to you and that Shiro needs them," she said sharply as she handed Lance a small container of painkillers. "And he needs to three when he wakes up and one before he sleeps. And he needs to see Lotor again for a check-up soon," she continued, Lance barely being awake enough to comprehend the information. "He needs to have given his arm seventy-two hours to heal before Lotor can check that it's successfully bonding to him."

Suddenly seeing that Lance was barely paying attention, she huffed. "I wrote is all on the back of the box for when you forget. He needs to come down sometime after six in the morning tomorrow. Okay?" Lance just nodded, taking ahold of the container and looking down at it. He turned it upside-down and, surely enough, all of the instructions were there. He glanced back up at her.

"Thanks, Allura. God, what time is it?"

"Three in the afternoon," she said as she moved back, sighing a little. Lance nodded.

"Uh, thanks. Again. He was asking about painkillers earlier so... these should help. I think."

She nodded a little. "You still interested in that restaurant?" she asked. Lance nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah! When- Uhh, when would we go?" he asked, taking a slight step back and into his room. His eyes flickered to the bedroom to check on Shiro, hoping he hadn't also been woken up by Allura's feverish knocking.

Shiro had been sitting up, woken up by the absence of Lance's warmth and the heated voices from outside his door. He rubbed at his eyes, groaning at both his dislike of waking up, and the soft ache that thrummed about the muscle of his arm. The hurt remained — there was no fading away nor ebbing, just that thumping hurt. Shiro reached his hand up and rubbed at his shoulder, eyes pinched into a cringe. He listened to the two speak outside.

"Later today, ideally. Get it out of the way so there isn't something that you still want to do before we leave. Okay?" Allura's voice came again, snapping Lance's attention away from the male in the bedroom. He looked up at her.

"Okay! Around seven- is that okay?" he asked, smiling excitedly. He was looking forward to having a romantic dinner with Shiro.

"Sounds fine," she confirmed softly as she took a step back, out of their room. "I'll meet you in the lobby and seven. Lotor will likely accompany me. See you then, Lance."

"Bye~!" Lance called as he watched her leave, shutting the door behind her and moving back to the bedroom, where Shiro was waiting.

Shiro looked up when Lance had opened up the door. He gave a wan smile, hand still clasped upon his shoulder. "Hey," he said quietly. "What did Allura want? I heard something about the restaurant at seven but not anything before that really."

"To give you these," he said as he held out the container. "Painkillers. You're supposed to take three of them," he said as he settled down beside him again, snuggling up to him. Shiro was warm. Lance was already chilly from just a few minutes out of bed. He was pressed up against Shiro, sighing a little. "Date at seven, and you needed your painkillers. She almost broke our door down for that."

Shiro gave a deep sigh of relief, already unscrewing the cap to the bottle. He shook three oblong capsules out onto his hand and dry swallowed each — too hasty to get up and get a cup of water. Shiro squeezes his eyes and shook his head, coughing a bit. Once his throat felt normal again, he smiled, and tossed the bottle aside. He sighed again.

"I hope that kicks in soon," he hummed, easing back down with Lance. He turned so he laid on his side — his left side, of course — and faced Lance. "Guess I'll have to dress up, if it's a date — good thing I packed my dining pants." Shiro gave a laugh and a wink, snorting a little bit. "Did she say where we are going or is it still a fun surprise?"

"Fun surprise," Lance said as he snuggled up to Shiro, sighing softly. "You looking forward to it? Our first date, off-grid to hide from a mafia. How exciting," he said with a warm smile, eyes fixing on his boyfriend and sparkling.

He brought the blanket up to his chin again, then shifting it so that it covered Shiro's shoulder a little- though he could still see the soft blue glow through the cream duvet cover.

"I guess so," Shiro admitted with a sarcastic hum of thought. "Fair warning, I haven't been on a date in a while. I might be a little rusty."

"Yeah, but I think that that's the case for both of us, Shiro," Lance replied teasingly.

Following Lance's gaze, Shiro's eyes trailed down his shoulder, catching sight of the glowing of his strange attachment. He watched it for a moment, and laughed again. "Like a fuckin' night light, huh?"

"It's a nice colour," he said with a smile. "It just means that you won't get away with making out in a closet now. Your arm will give you away immediately," he teased with a fond smile as he leant in and pecked his lips again, tracing the blue circle through the blanket and smiling softly.

"Is that you saying you want to make out in some closets in the future?" Shiro asked in a slick sort of purr, his brow cocked a bit too mischievously. "Because I wouldn't be too opposed to the idea." Lance laughed softly.

"Oh, darling Shiro," he said with a smile on his lips. "When would I ever say no?"

He leant in and pressed his lips to the male's, running his fingers through his soft hair. "Now come on, Romeo. Go shower now so that I'll have time to shower, too."

Shiro's eyes sparkled at the title darling, his eyebrows raising and his smile growing.

"So I'm Romeo now?" he asked in a quiet, husky sort of tone. Shiro leaned in and kissed Lance back, drawing the kiss out a bit longer than he should have. When he pulled away, he murmured, "can I shower? I vaguely remember Coran telling me I had to wait for a bit? Might have been a drug hallucination though."

Shiro thought for a moment. An evil idea popped into his head, and he gave Lance a smug grin, brow cocked. "I might not know how to shower with this arm yet. Maybe I'll need some help from lover-boy?"

Lance laughed softly but made no attempt to hide the blush flourishing on his cheeks.

"Alright," he began as he put one hand on his chest. "Maybe you should try to shower alone, first, but if you really do want my help, just call. I don't have any issues with showering with you, Romeo," He pulled back, smiling slightly as he lay back on the bed. "Now leave me! I need another fifteen minutes of sleep to make up for what Allura stole." And, of course, he had to say so with an air of drama about him. Typical Lance. Typical charming Lance.

Shiro offered his own flush of color at Lance's more collected answer, and gave a crooked smile. He put his hand up to his chest to take ahold of Lance's, grasping Lance's fingers gently in his own. He bent over in a half-bow. "Alright, your highness," he said, matching Lance's melodramatic tone. "I'll leave you to your beauty sleep." He pulled Lance's hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, before releasing his respectful hold.

With that, Shiro slipped from the bed, and made his way to the master bedroom's personal bathroom. Shiro opened the door, flipped the lights on, and gave a low whistle. He hadn't seen it yet -- the only bathroom he had used was the one out in the hall -- so the grand master bath gave him quite the impressed shock as he ran his eyes about the marble flooring and the glimmering plaster walls. There was, of course, a toilet pressed upon the back wall, and to its right was a set of double sinks with a beautifully encased mirror hanging right above them. On the other side of the room was a shower, its walls all glass and its nozzle a fancy looking silver, looking rather ravish without the rust and water-mold Shiro was used to. Tucked into the closer right corner was a bathtub, large and fitted with bubble jets all about the sides. Shiro gave a huff of laughter at the sight, eyes wide and inawed.

"Have you seen this place yet?" he asked to Lance behind him. "Why does a bathroom have to be so fuckin' spectaular?"

He didn't wait for an answer, and instead, slipped inside. Shiro closed the door behind him, and, eyes hanging a bit longingly on the bathtub, made his way to the shower. Figuring it would be better and faster, Shiro opened up the glass door, and turned the shower on. He stood back, undressed himself, and then stepped in.

Despite his teasing, Shiro didn't ask for help from Lance. Instead, he figured it out -- washing himself with his left hand and trying, out of an unconscious fear of getting electrocuted, to keep his right side from the powerful stream of hot water. He washed his hair with the hotel's complimentary shampoos and conditioners, and washed his face and skin with the hotels complimentary soaps and body scrubs. It all felt wonderful against his tensed muscles and sweaty, unshowered skin.

Shiro left the shower, which let off a great billowing of steam from the heat of his water when he opened the door, sparkling and content with himself. He dried off his face and his hair a bit lazily, and then wrapped the towel around his waist. Shiro, quietly, made his way back into the bedroom to grab his toothbrush and deodorant, before sneaking back inside the bathroom -- the door left slightly ajar. He, desperately needing to, brushed his teeth and freshened up his underarms. After he was done, Shiro leaned back to look at his water matted bangs, fingers running through the white forelock with a picky attitude. They were getting longer -- they just about reached his eyes if he'd pull them down enough. Shiro frowned and looked at his reflection's face.

Dark eyes stared back at him... but they were dark eyes that carried a smile. His bags were deep in color and his lids drooped into a heavy lidded stare, but there was a sparkle of excitement in there somewhere. Shiro could recognize that because... well... simply because he had to admit it had been a while since he noticed such a thing in his stare.

You're glowing.

"So, Sendak isn't crazy," he said quietly to himself. Shiro blinked, cringed, and shook his head. "Wasn't crazy. Wasn't."

Shiro tried to push that thought away, and continued studying the man in the mirror.

Arms wrapped around his waist from nowhere and Lance, whose entire body was heavy, held onto his boyfriend.

He had attempted to sleep. He'd gotten within reach of sleep, it had just begun taking its hold on him- when Shiro had walked in and he'd jolted awake again. When his body responded to him, he had gone to the bathroom, assuming that the ajar door was an invite for company.

"Nhnn," his voice came as he tried to focus on speaking coherently. "Shi...ro..."he murmured, his voice cooperating with him in low but sudden drawls. "I couldn't sleep," he finally managed to whine as he pulled back, his hold still firm on Shiro, but loose enough for the other to be able to either turn to face him or push him away if need be.

Shiro went red at the contact, fully aware the only thing covering him and his modesty was some white hotel towel lazily wrapped around his waist. His breath hitched a little, and he put his hand on Lance's, an impulsive giggle of nervous laughter escaping his lips before he could stop it. Shiro thought about moving to turn around, but the thought of the towel so loosely fixed around his body made him keep completely still. He stayed tense, but tried to act as though he didn't care, clearing his throat and shaking his head.

"H... hi Lance," he spluttered, trying with all his might to keep his voice the same pitch. "Sorry. Did I wake you, uh... did I wake you up?"

"Kinda," he mumbled as he shifted closer still. "And it was cold without you, so I probably wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway," he admitted with a slight shrug, shifting close again and holding tighter to his boyfriend.

He seemed entirely oblivious to the tension around the two of them. "How was the shower?" he asked after a moment, yawning softly with his head against Shiro's back. He was really warm- Lance didn't want to let go of him. His own personal heater.

Shiro swallowed hard, humming a bit awkwardly. "It was fine," he said meekly, laughing again out of anxious habit. After a moment or so of standing there in his slightly panicked, blushy state, Shiro gave Lance's arm a soft pat. "Hey so- uh - I know I'm irresistible and everything but, uhm, maybe I should get some clothes on before we start cuddling, huh? Just some underwear at least."

Lance frowned, pulling away- only to turn a very vibrant shade of red. "Oh- fuck," he mumbled. "I hadn't even realised. Sorry, Shiro," he said, covering his face with his hands. How the fuck had he just not noticed that Shiro was only in a towel? One that was just a little too low for Lance to keep his cool, as he found out when Shiro turned around. He just decided to keep his face covered with both hands.

"I'm going to have my shower now," he said from behind his hands. "You- Uhh- Should get dressed."

Lance's noticing only made Shiro grow more flustered. His hand had drifted to the side of the towel, nervously holding it up just incase the tuck decided to fall loose. "It's-... it's alright, Lance," he said, earnest yet embarrassed. He began backing up towards the door, forcing a smile onto his cherry red face. Shiro supposed he should have lifted the mood a bit.

"Kind of surprised you didn't notice," he said with a fake sort of confidence. Shiro gestured himself. "Such a specimen is hard to ignore." With that, Shiro groped backwards for the door handle, still glowing with blush. "I'll, uh, see you after your shower Lance."

He slipped out the door, and brought his hands to his face, letting out a long, embarrassed groan through his lips.

Lance turned on the shower and let the hot water run through his fingers as he checked the temperature. He locked the door and began to strip down, leaving his clothes in a small heap on the floor and stepping under the warm water. His eyes closed and he let out a low groan of relief, feeling muck and sweat and stress and tension being washed away.

His eyes closed and he just spent a few moments enjoying the feeling of the warm water running along his tense body. His shoulders slumped a little. Finally. He was able to relax. He'd not been able to do that for days. And as disgusting as it was, he couldn't quite recall the last time that he had showered.

It felt good, though. Next on the agenda was to have a bath with endless bubbles. Maybe he could pester Allura into taking him to lush so that he could get some beauty equipment. He hadn't done a facemask in weeks and he missed having all the products that he used to use.

He finally gathered some of the shampoo now that he had basked in the warm water for an adequate amount of time. He washed his hair with shampoo and conditioner before beginning to wash the rest of his body with the pleasantly scented shower gel.

He was in the shower for almost forty-five minutes, finally stepping out of the shower and drying himself off with one of the white towels provided. He spent a short while using the hairdryer and combing through his hair to fix the parting, before smiling at his reflection as he stood and began toward the bedroom.

"Hey, Shiro," his voice came as he unlocked and opened the bedroom door. "What are you going to wear for our date? Because if you're going fancy, I'm going to have to go fancy. If you go casual, I'll do the same." He began toward his bag, keeping his towel in place with one hand as he brought his bag onto the bed, eyes flickering to Shiro to see how he was dressed.

Shiro, respectively, had been dressed rather fancy. It was the sort of outfit he would wear to an important meeting of some sort. Lean, black dress slacks with a sharp looking black jacket pulled over a white button up. Both right sleeves of both tops had been cut clean off with the emergency knife he had packed, the ripped hems tucked inwards so only the large metal bulk of his shoulder attachment showed. The collar of his white shirt had been flicked up, and he had been fiddling with the tie — having trouble with both his arm and with remembering how to actually do it — when Lance had stepped out. He turned around, his jacket messily unbuttoned, his collar untidy, and his tie undone and limp around his neck. Shiro offered a smile to Lance, yet blushed and turned his gaze to the floor when he noticed he had been in the same toweled situation Shiro had been in earlier.

"Trying to go fancy. I'm not ready yet," he said, smoothly, gesturing himself. "Figured this town was rich enough — had to break out the dress suit to go eat. How was your shower? You were in there for a while." Lance smiled.

"It was great," he said as he moved over, taking a slightly crumpled shirt and a blazer that he didn't exactly remember packing. "I can't wait to bathe for four hours tomorrow." He set them on the bed and dug around for a blue tie (that he also didn't remember packing) before dropping some dress pants on the bed.

With the towel still wrapped around his waist, Lance approached Shiro and began to fix his clothes. He fixed his tie for him, doing the simple knot. He then sorted his collar out, straightening it up. Finally, he did up the buttons of his jacket.

Shiro stood, complying with Lance's fussy nature. No, not just complying, but inviting it. The way Lance tucked his collar down or rugged on his tie to tie gave Shiro a warm, homey feeling in his chest. He smiled down at Lance, eyes dazedly lidded and glossed over with a look of fondness. Shiro had almost forgotten Lance's towel. Almost.

He smiled softly, licking his lips. "You're beautiful. You look really handsome." He said, his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, stop," Shiro said lowly, blushing a little more himself. After flicking his eyes to the floor, and then bringing them back, Shiro murmured a quiet, "thank you."

Finally, Lance pulled back and went to his bag. He dug around for some boxers before going to the bathroom to get changed into his fancy clothes. The creases weren't noticeable, either. He thought that he looked pretty good.

Returning to the bedroom, Lance approached Shiro again. He took ahold of his hands. "Are you excited?"

Shiro gave a nod, taking in the sight of the dapper Lance with a feeling of true admiration. "Yes. A little scared, but excited," he admitted, leaning forward to press his forehead against Lance's a moment. Shiro thought about kissing him, but figured against it. "You look great, Lance." Lance's cheeks flushed.

"Thanks," he said softly, squeezing Shiro's hands. "So do you. And with all of your muscle, you might just be showing me up. I mean- you're shredded and you have a pretty face. It's unfair on me," he continued, his smile not leaving his lips as he leant up and pressed his lips to Shiro's.

He checked the time. "It's half five," Lance said as he squeezed Shiro's hand. "Are you ready to go? It's about time to go to the lobby so we can meet Allura and Lotor. They'll need to be eating near us- but I've managed to charm Allura out of sitting two tables away so now she'll sit four tables away. Not much of an improvement but it gives us a tiny little bit more privacy."

Shiro nodded, happy at the thought of a private dinner with Lance. "Yeah, I'm pretty much ready," he said, smiling. "Too bad I'm an idiot who only packed one pair of shoes. I don't think combat boots match my outfit but I forgot everything else." Shiro shook his head and snorted. "I hope I don't embarrass you with my informality, huh?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I only packed sneakers, so we're on the same level," Lance replied with a grin on his lips, squeezing Shiro's hand.

Grinning, Shiro held Lance's hand a bit tighter, and then let go. He made his way to the bedroom door, and held it open for Lance to walk through. They made their ways to the front door, said a sweet goodbye to their pets, and then left to the lobby. When the elevator dinged and opened, the two stepped out, and found Allura and Lotor waiting for them. Shiro looped his arm around Lance's waist and pulled him closer, the gap of the strange prosthetic matching Lance's body almost perfectly.

"So," Shiro said to Allura when they had met up with the other pair. "The place we're going. Do we get like, a private table? I'm not gonna see any, uh, familiar faces, am I?"

"Shiro, trust me. You are going to be in a booth with curtains. If you see a familiar face, or you feel like you're at a risk, or you just want a moment without anyone elses eyes on you, we can close the curtains." She took Lotor's hand and gestured to the door. "Whenever you're ready. Your budget it one hundred dollars. I'd rather not dip into my pocket any further for this."

Lance nodded, grinning, and thanked her as he tugged Shiro toward the door. Lotor took the lead, his hand still locked with Allura's, and began leading her toward the restaurant. Lance just smiled and followed them down an unfamiliar path, keeping as close to Shiro as he could. He just wished that he could think of anything to say.

"A hundred dollars," Shiro mused, sounding unimpressed as they made their way out. "For the two of us? Sounds a bit stingy to me, don't you think Lance?"

Despite his quiet tone, Shiro heard an agitated sigh from the Princess in front of them. He gave an evil snicker, but said no more. Shiro's truce with Lotor didn't mean he couldn't keep his mouth shut — and it most definitely didn't mean he couldn't aggravate the Princess.

The strange group made their way to the car, Shiro moving with his head ducked down and his eyes traveling over the crowds of that specific area — in search of any one who could be of threat. Shiro and Lance slid in the back — which Shiro found to be rude, considering the fact he had jokingly called shotgun on the way — and Allura and Lotor situated themselves in the front. The car started with a purring rumble, and, with a heavy growl of the engine, they went on their way, Lotor obviously showing off his powerful vehicle to the more populated streets.

Lance sat giddily in the back. He held tightly to Shiro's hand, not even caring that it was the prosthetic as he squeezed it. He'd suddenly lit up with conversation, talking loudly and announcing everything that came to mind, his eyes fixed on Shiro. They glimmered with excitement while he spoke, telling stories of the police precinct and nudging Allura to join in (even though she refused every time), talking of stories of Allura's arrests, talking about their time at the academy- everything. He just rambled, holding onto Shiro, spilling the excitement out of him with talk about literally anything else.

Shiro listened, a little hesitant at first due his obvious distaste in the topic of police work. As Lance went on with his rambling stories -- and boy did they go on -- Shiro found himself becoming more and more interested at the mention of coworkers and mafia enemies he'd mention. Everytime Lance would gush about one of Allura's fantastic arrests, Shiro would put in his own little 'oh huh I went to that guy's wedding' or 'haha, she deserved it. Tried to kill me once or twice...'

The long conversation went on until the crunching beneath the tires became the familiar popping of a gravel parking lot, and Lotor from the wheel informed that they had arrived. Shiro had turned away from his content staring at Lance, and looked out the window. They had been in one of the more lashvish part of an already richer town, so Shiro wasn't too surprised when he caught sight of the large, sophisticated restaurant before them. Lotor drove up a narrow sort of strip of gravel, stopping the car before the front door of the building. A dapper dressed man hurried up to Lotor's window, and Shiro heard them talk of reservations and valet parking.

A few moments later, Shiro found himself on the curb beside Lance and Allura, all watching Lotor give specific instructions to the man who would be driving his car. Shiro kept his head down, eyes shifting nervously from face to face. His mind went to all of the worst possible situations, and his grip against Lance's arm tightened. Shiro swallowed hard, and bit the inside of his cheek, anxiously waiting for Lotor to just finish up already.

Lance glanced at him. He moved onto his tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Relax," he said softly. "Allura's going to look out for us, okay? Just relax." He settled back on his feet and closed his eyes as he tipped his head onto Shiro's shoulder. Shiro only squeezed his hand again in response, offering a nervous nod and a wan looking smile.

Lotor finally finished speaking and gestured to the door of the restaurant.

"Go ahead," he said with a small smile. "Allura booked it."

She nodded, moving past them and walking inside. Lotor was behind Shiro and Lance while Allura walked in front. It was the best way to keep them both safe, having someone keeping them from being vulnerable from behind while Allura lead them forward. Lance and Shiro would be able to see if anyone came close in their peripheral vision.

The door opened and Allura was soon being lead to her seat, Lance and Shiro being taken to their booth seats in an alcove, tucked away in the corner. Allura and Lotor were sat four tables away, as promised, with clear visuals on them both. As promised, there were curtains if they were needed. The last thing that either of them wanted was to be seen by someone Shiro had had past conflict with. The last thing they needed was for one of them to be shot in the head while they were having their first date.

As far as dates go, though, that wouldn't be Lance's worst.

He settled down in the crescent-shaped seat. Holding out his hand for Shiro to sit beside him. The menus were set down in front of them and Lance mumbled his thanks, suddenly feeling nervous to be so out in the open- especially with someone as wanted as Shiro. He really didn't want any trouble. He just wanted a nice date and a safe journey to England to live a safe, uninterrupted life.

Shiro sat beside Lance, and looped his arm about his waist like before. Shiro pulled Lance close a bit too protectively, a keen look on the restaurant around them. With his other hand, he groped for the menu. Shiro glanced down at the slick, shiny book of delectable Italian dishes, and he felt his whole system roll with a sudden hunger he hadn't felt before. Out of nowhere, his stomach felt as though it had been empty and concave for a long, long time. His mouth watered, and his eyes rounded at the abundance of meals and drinks. He suddenly wondered, his stomach clenching in on itself with a powerful grumble, if a hundred dollars was going to be enough for just him, let alone Lance, too.

"What are you getting?" Shiro asked, sounding inawed at all of his choices. "There's so much... and it's all so expensive. A hundred dollars just isn't enough, huh?"

Lance laughed softly, though the same hunger was gnawing at his insides and his eyes scanned over every option. He was going to go for the lasagna, he'd decided, but he didn't know what side he wanted to get it with.

"Really," he said softly. "You'd think that you'd need a couple hundred to eat here," he said with a soft smile. He was clearly anxious. Everything about how he spoke, the unusual hesitance in his voice- it all gave it away. It wasn't clear if the nervousness was from the idea that he was on a date or from who he was on a date with (it was a really shady area for Shiro to be in, of all people), but it was clear that he was incredibly nervous. He shifted a little closer to Shiro, his eyes scanning the nearby tables to see if anyone was looking at them.

Nobody was. His nerves settled slightly and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Okay," he mumbled. "I'm going for the lasagna and I've been looking at the fancy wines. What do you say to getting a bottle to share?"

Shiro noticed Lance's fear, and felt sharp jab of guilt that spread like poison from its place of impact, making his whole system feel uncomfortable and tight. Lance was feeling afraid -- feeling afraid on a date he'd been so, so excited for -- and it was all his fault. There would be no threat to Lance if it wasn't for Shiro -- Shiro and his past and his actions that all came back up to him, like karma at its worst form. Feeling as though he could just curl up into a ball of guilt and anger, Shiro frowned and offered a nod, turning his eyes back to the menu to hide his shame from Lance.

"Wine sounds nice," he said, voice dry. "I guess I'll just get the Vodka Penne. The... hah... the vodka aspect makes it more appetizing to me." Despite his joking, Shiro's tone was oddly pitched and not right in some way.

God, his first date in years, and he was screwing everything up.

Lance looked up at him. He grabbed his collar and pulled him down.

"Look," he muttered. "We're both nervous as fuck, we're both anxious and all it's doing is getting both of us more and more nervous. Kiss me," he demanded suddenly, bringing Shiro closer. "Just kiss me." And he pulled Shiro down and pressed their lips together, his eyes closed as he held Shiro's collar tightly. They were sitting so close to each other that their thighs were touching.

Lance just wanted the nervousness to fade and kissing was the only thing that they'd been good at so far. It seemed like a good way to alleviate the tension.

It did. Like before, Shiro melted into Lance's kiss. He let go of his nervousness and his guiltiness and just let himself fade into Lance's lips and Lance's touch. When the kiss ended, the two pulled apart and huffing for breath just like before, the waiter had approached their table, and had been waiting with an awkward patience with his notepad in hand. Shiro cleared his throat, and blushed -- but smiled nonetheless. He felt better, and he was determined to stay that way. This was his first date with Lance, his first real date since Adam. He was going to feel good about it.

They ordered their wine and then some water, and the waiter left them alone. Shiro leaned in and kissed Lance some more, planting small, sweet kisses on his lips and his cheeks and his even neck once, causing a wide smile to break out on Lance's face, one that made his cheeks ache. After he was done with his showering of affection, Shiro laughed a little.

"Who knew kissing was so therapeutic?" he hummed sweetly, winking. "I feel a lot better."

"You have to have a magical kiss, Shiro, I swear," he said as he looked up at him. "Something about your lips, they just help me relax so easily." He leant in and pecked them again. "Next time either of us get nervous, we now know how to deal with it. Quick makeout sessions never hurt anyone."

"Oh hell yeah," Shiro giggled in response.

Lance smiled, squeezing Shiro's hand as his head tipped onto Shiro's shoulder. Shiro, Shiro, Shiro. God, did he ever think about anyone else? Did anyone even matter like Shiro did? He squeezed his hand.

"I love you," he mumbled softly. "I really love you."

Shiro's eyes went wide. His system froze a bit in a strange kind of shock. He didn't know why -- he obviously felt the same. He hadn't been so shell shocked when Lance would call him his love. He hadn't been too surprised when Lance had confessed those three powerful words to him back in Coran's office (though he had been quite high on pain medication...). So why then? Why had he felt so suddenly helpless, staring down at Lance, a pleasant sort of shock thrumming through his body?

He groped for words, even though he knew what he was going to say. It took him a few painstaking moments -- everything running throughout his head. Sendak and Lotor and England and wine and Keith and Allura and Lance and Adam. The kissing. The kissing and its calming power it held over him.

Shiro made a point to focus on the kissing...

"I love you too, Lance," he said, the words tasting good. The words tasting right. A new sort of buzz overtook him -- one not casted by guilt or fear. He felt excited. He felt happy. He felt new -- saved, even. Shiro, grinning like an idiot, repeated the phrase. "I love you, too."

And Lance had just begun feeling anxious that Shiro wasn't going to say exactly that. He smiled again and pulled Shiro in for another kiss- being interrupted after only a moment of magical kissing later by the sound of a wine bottle and a jug of water being set on their table. He finally pulled away from Shiro, grinning as he looked at their drinks. He thanked the waiter as he began filling his wine glass, pouring the same amount for Shiro.

"This was expensive, so we need to make it last. Can you do that, Shiro?" he asked teasingly, a smile on his lips.

"Make it last?" Shiro echoed in a sarcastic pondering. "I don't know. Depends on how good it tastes."

He watched as the deep red liquid poured its way into the bulbous wine glasses, the gurgling sound from the wine bottle along with that sharp yet pleasurably piquant smell of aged grape causing a slick smile to pull at the edges of his lips. It brought him back to older days and older dates, a warm sort of nostalgia coursing through his veins. Shiro took ahold of his glass, thanked Lance for pouring it for him, and held it up as if to toast.

"To fuckin' England!" he exclaimed in a politely hushed way. "And bookstores. And no more mafia shit messing up my-our lives."

"To fucking England!" Lance said with a grin, holding up his glass by Shiro's and clinking them together, smiling giddily. "And no more mafia bullshit." He said happily as he leant in and pressed a kiss to Shiro's lips before beginning to sip on the wine. It was good- expensive, and definitely worth it.

Not that they were the ones paying for it.

"And to expensive restaurants where we won't have to pay a single penny," he added as his eyes flickered to Shiro, setting his glass back down.

Shiro took a long sip — the wine tasting good and sharp against his tongue and warm against his chest. He set it down, and smiled at Lance, giving a slow nod of approval. "There is some of that money left over — enough to buy dessert after," he said in a coaxing sort of tone, leaning forward on the table. His eyes caught sight of their waiter making rounds, noting that he was only two tables away. Shiro flicked his eyes back to Lance and grinned again. "They didn't say we had to give them change, so why not just spend it all?"

The waiter came to their table and they ordered — Shiro smirking like an idiot when he asked for a dessert menu, too. They had to skip appetizers, of course, because their meals were too expensive, and Shiro's sweet tooth seemed to overpower his want for mozzarella sticks or calamari. Only a little while of soft conversation and spared kisses had passed before their steaming plates had been brought to their table, both sat atop of a large silver platter. The waiter set everything down, refilled their jug of water, and went off.

Shiro was a little tipsy —only a little! — off the wine when he started eating, so his reaction to his first was a little dramatic, if he had to say so himself.

"Shit!" he said, louder than he had meant to. "This is great! You should make this sometime." He moved closer to Lance, nose just about brushing against his cheek. Shiro brought his voice down to a husky whisper. "I'm sure it would be better than this, anyways... with you being so good at cooking and all."

A couple of heads turned at the loudness of Shiro's voice, Lance's attention fixing on him immediately. He'd been about to ask if everything was alright when Shiro continued speaking. His face flushed and he grinned, shifting over a little. "I- Really? I mean- Of course! I can make us anything to eat when we move!" he said happily, slicing a small section of his lasagna and taking a bite. It tasted good- he could see where shiro's reaction had come from now.

He gathered a little more on his fork and held it up to Shiro's lips. "Try it!" he urged excitedly. "It's really good. Like- really good. Have some!" Maybe that wine was getting to both of them a little too quickly. They'd not even had that much- Lance's glass was almost empty and Shiro's was awaiting a refill- but still they were tipsy. Lance couldn't quite remember the last time he'd had anything to drink, though, so that wasn't surprising. Well, not including the excessive amounts of shots after the death fo Sendak.

Before then. Ignoring that entire incident, he couldn't remember the last thing that had gotten him tipsy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been drunk. Possibly college. He'd definitely been drunk in college but he didn't know if that was the last time.

Anyway, focusing back on now instead of thinking of alcohol, Lance pushed the forkful of lasagna closer to Shiro. "Come on, try it!"

Shiro gave a grin and leaned forward, taking the bite from Lance's fork with a giggle. "Ohh, that is good," he said in a hum. Shiro moved closer, ignoring the pressing stares of some of the other tables around them. "Give me another bite, huh? I'll give you another one of mine." His voice was prying and playful, sweetened with a sarcastic little beg.

Lance grinned, nodding, and complied almost immediately, holding out another forkful of his lasagna. He gave a playful "say ahh" before feeding Shiro, smiling happily. This felt perfect. Everything with Shiro felt perfect, but this date was wonderful. He kept his eyes on Shiro, pulling the fork back after a moment and opening his mouth to invite the food Shiro had promised him.

Shiro fed Lance his bite with a laugh, and then turned back to his plate to feed himself. He ate, surprisingly, the entire bowl of pasta, despite his usual smaller appetite. Shiro supposed it had something to do with how he only had a few bites of plain pasta since his operation. He was fairly full when he had pushed his empty plate away, warm with the wine and with the delicious food. Shiro wondered if desserts would be a good idea...

"Are you still hungry?" Shiro asked, turning to Lance, who looked to be finishing up the last of his lasagna. "I want dessert, but, I dunno. I'm kinda full."

"We could share one?" he suggested as he took Shiro's hand. He had to admit that he wasn't too hungry, either, but he wasn't full. He was just enjoying the date and if he had a dessert, it would last longer. He poured them both another glass of wine, shifting closer to Shiro. Hell, if he sat any closer, he'd be on his goddamn lap.

But he liked being close to Shiro too much to move away.

Shiro smiled. "Romantic," he said smoothly, lifting up his glass of wine.

Shiro took a long sip, closing his eyes as he held and cherished the taste. He took another sip, opened his eyes, and plucked up the desserts menu from where their waiter had set it. Shiro thumbed through the obscenely large collection of deserts, and paused upon a rather spectacular looking brownie sundae. The picture showed him rich dark chocolate brownies, topped with two scoops of chilled vanilla ice cream, all drizzled with caramel and crunchy chocolate shavings. He laid the menu down, and held it open with his splayed hand. Shiro tapped his forefinger on the picture.

"Does that look good?" he asked, peeking at Lance from the corner of his eyes. "About four cavities in one meal, but that seems kinda worth it to me."

"Definitely," Lance agreed with a grin, his eyes flickering to Shiro's face, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw.

"Dessert sounds great and that dessert looks really nice," he continued, his drunk rambling not stopping as he stumbled out some barely-coherent "But you'd be better"- only to immediately cope with what he had just said by draining the rest of his glass of wine.

He waved over a waiter and managed to stumble out their order, his hand finding Shiro's and gripping to it like his life depended on it. His eyes settled on Shiro again. "Can we kiss again?" he blurted out, his eyes fixing on Shiro's lips. "I really like kissing you."

Shiro blushed wildy at Lance's subtle yet very real pick-up line, but nodded all the same. He leaned forward, and pressed a sloppy yet passionate kiss onto Lance's lips and into Lance's mouth. He put one hand -- his real one -- to Lance's face so he could touch and feel the warmth of his skin. He had wrapped the other hand -- that strange prosthetic -- about his lower back to pull him closer. Impossibly closer, that is. Lance had been basically sitting atop his lap, which had to have been a bit awkward with the table being so close, but neither of them cared. Shiro just wanted him even closer. Closer so he could kiss him deeper and hold him tighter and to never ever let go...

It was probably their most intense kiss of the night so far -- Shiro had to guess that when he had pulled back and found his breath haggard and his system buzzing with pure electricity. He felt drunk with bliss and adrenaline, which left him utterly hammered atop of his actual buzz from the wine. His eyes fluttered and his smile was crooked yet unbelievably genuine. When he looked at Lance, he seemed to see stars misting about his vision -- stars spurred about from both his high and his unbreakable admiration for the man sitting before him.

Shiro, without thinking moved forward to press their foreheads together. He didn't need to kiss again, but rather he yearned simply for the contact. Lance was warm. Warm like the alcohol and warm like the food. Warm like the breath that spilled from his lips in desperate huffs and puffs. Warm like his skin, which seemed to be radiating its own comfortable heat with the excitement of his heart and of his body. His head a bit clouded with all of that warmth about him, Shiro gave a final sweeter, calmer kiss to Lance, before leaning his head back and letting out a great sigh. His one hand was still wrapped around Lance's waist, and the other still pressed up to his cheek. 

"I really like kissing you too," he said finally after a few moments of catching his breath. Shiro tilted his head up to look Lance in the eyes, a fond glimmer misting about his own. "We're pretty good at it, I guess."

"Mm," Lance wrapped his arms around Shiro's neck and smiled fondly at him. The alcohol had his whole system warm and tingling and his lips were fuzzy from where he'd kissed Shiro. "I want to kiss more when we get back," he admitted after a moment. "Y'know. Kiss."

Shiro went cherry red, but still smiled.

Lance wasn't even sure what he was saying, he just knew that in the moment, he wanted Shiro. He wanted to make the most of every single second that they had together. He wanted to do everything with Shiro.

He smiled fondly, about to kiss Shiro again (his damn addictive lips) when the plate for their dessert was set down. It distracted him successfully and he pulled away from Shiro enough to take one of the two forks. He began cutting off a small section of the brownie and held it up for Shiro to try it. He wasn't sure why he liked feeding him so much but something about it made him feel special.

Besides, it was kinda cute to see Shiro with his eyes closed, lips parted, waiting expectantly for lasagna or brownie. Shiro was just damn cute. I mean- sexy, cute, handsome, it wasn't fair that Shiro was all of them!

Shiro, cocking his brow a little, did close his eyes and wait for the tasty smelling forkful of brownie and caramel. It tasted like absolute heaven -- the sweet, cozy taste of warm chocolate mixed with salty caramel, all baked and mixed to perfection. Shiro gave a long hum of contentment, and fluttered his eyes open, reaching for his own fork blindly with his hand. Despite his desperation for another bite, this time maybe with a scoop of cool ice cream to juxtapose with the gooey warmth of the brownie, Shiro felt it only fair to let Lance try it first. He scooped up a forkful, and held it out to his date.

"You're turn, lover boy," he said in a sort of purring tone. Just as Lance was leaning in, he pulled the fork away just a bit and clicked his tongue. "Actually, I don't know if you would like it. Maybe it would be a better idea to just let me have everything? Hm? Sound good?" Shiro noted Lance's pout, and shook his head. "Just kidding. Here you go, prince charming."

Lance closed his eyes and opened his mouth, moving his hand onto Shiro's leg for support as he leant forward, just waiting for the brownie. When he got it, his lips curled into a fond smile and he melted into the various flavours.

He opened his eyes and pecked Shiro's cheek, focusing his attention back on the food before him. He divided it into halves so that Shiro wouldn't eat any of his food and vice versa, beginning to devour the delicious treats. God, this was almost worth every penny. He'd need to ask for a recipe or something.

Shiro ate his half, loving every bite. It had been a while since he had tasted something so delicious -- delicious in a sense of sweetness and chocolate, of course. He had almost forgotten about how much he loved the stuff. How much he loved the rich taste of fudge and the mouth watering melt of ice cream. He tried so savor and save his half of the sundae, hoping to draw out his bites and his chewing, but found it nearly impossible with how good it all was. Shiro ate it all down -- again shocking himself with his ability to finish his plate -- in nearly seven minutes, feeling drunk and full and happy. When he was done, he set the chocolate smeared platter atop his other empty one, and pushed both to the very edge of the table for the waiter to collect. He leaned back against the seat, arm draped over Lance's shoulder, and his head calculating their spendings as he waited for Lance to finish.

"We did pretty good. Have about seventeen dollars left over. We should leave it all as a tip -- make sure Allura and Lotor don't get their change out of spite." Shiro chuckled at the thought, dragging his glance over at the two. They had finished their meals, empty plates at the edge of their table. Allura had a wine glass, but it looked like Lotor only had a glass of half empty soda of some kind. They spoke to each other -- Shiro could see the kind, relaxed smiles on their faces and gave a slight huff of what he thought was laughter. Shiro shook his head and looked back to Lance. "Unless you want to order something and box it. I just figured the waiter deserved a little something-something after watching us make out for an hour and a half, you know?"

Lance giggled a little, pressing into Shiro's neck. The alcohol was still making his whole system buzz with excitement, giddiness pestering at him and causing him to be so bubbly and excited as he sat with Shiro. He glanced up and met eyes with Lotor and Allura, who had finished eating at least half an hour ago and he began tugging Shiro's sleeve. "I think we should go," he mumbled. "They seem to be tired of waiting for us to stop making out and spending their money."

Shiro gave a reluctant nod, liking the idea of keeping the other two aggravated. "Alright," he hummed, lifting up a hand to wave the waiter over.

When the man approached their table, Shiro explained who would be paying for them, and how much the man could give himself in tip -- drunkenly stressing that he should use the entire seventeen dollars and eighty-nine cents to treat himself nicely -- and then sent the waiter on his way. Shiro watched the waiter receive two bills and place them on the other date's table. Shiro then watched Lotor's eyes shoot open wide at the contents of the little black folders, and snickered to himself, turning back to Lance.

"We'll just wait until they come over here to tell us we can go, and then be on our way," Shiro said, almost to himself as he ran over the plan of the night. "Back to home sweet apartment building where we can..." Shiro trailed off, cheeks getting a little warmer when a rather vulgar word popped into his head to finish his sentence. He shook the thought away, and remembered what Lance said earlier. "Where we can kiss."

Lance flushed and laughed a little, waiting for Allura to begin toward the table to stand and begin to the door, dragging Shiro by his wrist and grinning to himself. Allura caught up with them, again doing their diamond formation to keep them both safe. Lance was talking in loud, slurred announcements of his happiness, squeezing Shiro's hand and kissing his jaw and just being affectionate. God, at this rate they'd be fucking- kissing- in the back of the car, which they soon arrived at.

Lance settled down in the back and got comfy, stretching his legs out over Shiro's lap as he clipped in his seatbelt. Lotor turned on the radio loudly to try to focus on something other than Lance's voice, starting the car. Allura clipped in her seatbelt and they exchanged shameful glances about the intoxicated pair in the back of their car.

The drive back seemed shorter than the ride there. It may have been Shiro's mind had been so fogged up with alcohol and Lance that he just didn't have the brainpower to focus on the duration of their journey. It seemed like only mere minutes of kissing Lance and murmuring about 'sweet nothings' into his ears before the car hitched onto the smooth drive way of the hotel, and the car came to a stop in its spot. Shiro had leaned up from Lance's side, and gave a surprised glance outside the window, giving a soft hum to himself before he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened up his door, giving Lance's hand a tight squeeze before he let go and slipped out.

The night air was chilly against his constantly warm contact with Lance, and Shiro found himself becoming quite clingy when his date had slipped from the car, too. He made his way to Lance's side, and pulled him close -- a good, protective hold on his waist as they made their ways to the door behind Allura and Lotor. They went into the lobby, and stood there a moment or so while Lotor registered their arrival at the desk -- which was odd to the drunken Shiro, considering they were all already checked in. When Lotor came back, Shiro found himself mindlessly turning to both him and Allura, words rushedly leaving him before he could keep up.

"Thanks," he blurted in a slurred sort of way, still hugging Lance close to him. "Thanks for dinner. It meant a lot to - hic! - to me. You guys are douchebags, and I hate you, but thanks." Allura just nodded and Lotor mumbled some acknowledgement that was lost as Lance stole away Shiro's attention by dragging him off to the lift.

And now, to a night of drunk kissing.


	22. A Good Boyfriend

Lance woke up late. The sunlight streamed through the hotel room blinds and shook him from his slumber. The bright lights attacked his eyes, forcing him to wake up and preventing him from getting the hours of sleep he needed.

That was when he noticed his headache. His skull throbbed and pounded like his brain was trying to escape his head. And, almost immediately after, nausea began to wash over him. Oh, fuck. Hangovers. He'd forgotten about how bad they felt. He could barely even remember what had happened the night before- he just remembered getting back to the hotel and bringing Shiro to their room and...

And he was naked. That was an obvious hint about what had happened. He was hungover, naked, and Shiro was likely also going to be hungover when he woke up. For now, though, Lance had to awkwardly hobble to the bathroom to vomit and get something to drink. He wrapped a large towel around himself for warmth and for modesty, just in case Shiro woke up and came to the bathroom.

He finally stood, getting himself a drink and draining three or four glasses of water, coughing a little. His eyes flickered to his reflection. His head throbbed and, god, he wished the sun could tone it down a little to be more considerate. His eyes were bloodshot and slightly red, though that was more likely from the vomiting and lack of sleep than anything else. He grumbled, washing his face, the cold water helping greatly. He was exhausted, drained, and he just wanted to get rid of his hangover and sleep until his body stopped aching.

He shifted the towel down a little, having had it wrapped around him from his neck to his mid-thigh. His face turned a very vibrant shade of red. There were hickeys everywhere. Not to mention bite marks, small scratches on his hips especially- Jesus Christ, Shiro was some kind of a fucking animal.

Speak of the devil, he could hear stirring and agonised groans coming from the bedroom. The unmistakable sounds of a certain someone with a dreadful hangover.

Shiro had, somehow, slept through the glaring of the sunlight through the window curtains, but he hadn't been able to sleep through the absence of Lance in his arms. He, still somewhat half asleep, stretched out his arms in search of Lance's body to hold onto, but found a bed of cold, empty sheets. Shiro whined, stirring into some sort of consciousness as he pushed himself up against the mattress. Then, Shiro gave out a pained sort of groan at the whirling and splintering of his head, and then slumped back down -- suddenly grateful for the chill of the blankets against his hot skull. Shiro reached a hand up to hold at his temple, letting out another half-sentient grumble of dissatisfaction.

His voice was hoarse and scratchy, from what he could tell from his groaning and moaning. He pushed up from the bed again, nausea rushing throughout his system as the lights flashed in his eyes and throughout his brain. His body seemed to ache, bones tired and muscles weary. Shiro blinked a little, feeling a familiar something that wasn't just his hangover. A familiar knowing or feeling that coursed about him, almost laughing at him and his dazed ignorance. He almost couldn't put his finger on it, too tired and too washed out from all of that wine (Shiro had a vague memory of some extra shots by the breakfast bar as well...) It wasn't until he looked down at himself, and realized he'd been completely naked.

"Fuck!"

The word left him in a blurting sort of fashion. Shiro clapped his hands over his mouth, flinching at the sound of his own voice. He swallowed hard, head still spinning, system still on the verge of dry heaving, and looked down at himself again. Not only was he naked, but he was covered in love bites, those faint pink spots dotting around his chest and up his collarbone. When Shiro lifted a hand to rub at his neck, he found the familiar rough, bruised skin of more hickeys, and promptly blushed.

Shiro, his leg muscles sore, slid from the bed in a nervous stand, eyes looking out for Lance. He heard a clatter in the bathroom, and then saw a silhouette moving about in the crack between the door and its frame. Quickly, figuring it was the most decent thing to do, Shiro groped for his lazily flung underwear and slipped them onto his hips, covering himself up properly before he made his delicate way to the bathroom. Shiro leaned in, and knocked on the ajar door before entering.

"Hey, uh, Lance?" he said quietly, swallowing hard. He closed his eyes against the pinwheels of colors that flashed about his vision, shaking his head a little. "Can... can I come in?"

After a few panicked moments of 'oh my god im only wearing a towel' and 'oh my god we had sex', Lance finally found his hoarse voice and called out a "Y-Yeah, go ahead. Can you bring me some boxers, though?"

He kept the towel wrapped awkwardly around himself, turning to look at the door, waiting for Shiro to come through so that they could have the awkward conversation about what had happened. They'd only actually been dating for a few days so Lance was beginning to panic that they'd had sex too soon (he was trying not to focus on the idea that he was so drunk he can't remember his first time) and that it would have some negative consequences.

He was just nervous, though he couldn't be blamed for that. He had every reason to be nervous.

Shiro nodded, left to go and try to find Lance's underwear, and then made his way back to the bathroom. He opened the door slowly, smiling a bit when he caught sight of Lance -- strikingly beautiful even in his time of awkward hangover -- and held out his boxers. Shiro swallowed hard again, taking a soft step back when Lance had taken his draws.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly. "Hangovers gotta be shit and..." Shiro trailed off, noticing all of the hickeys and scratches and even the fucking bite mark on Lance's shoulder with a feeling of sharp guilt. He decided not to finish the statement. "I'll let you steal some of my pain meds for your head."

 

Lance shrugged a little. "Nah, I can, uhh, find some ibuprofen or something, don't worry," he said as he glanced anxiously at the ground. "But yeah, the hangover is pretty shit. And I'm really fucking sore, too," he mumbled, biting his bottom lip, his face a vibrant red as he looked up at the male standing before him.

"How about you?" he managed to stutter out after a moment. "I can't imagine that your hangover is much better. You had a lot to drink, too."

Shiro shook his head. "I'm fine. Haven't thrown up yet, so it can't be that bad," he said, raising his shoulders a little bit.

He bit his lip and thought things through a few times, trying to find the right words to say.

"Alright, time to rip off the band-aid here, Lance," he sighed, taking a step forward. Shiro gestured the both of them -- their scratched up bodies and their blushing faces and their love bitten throats. "We had sex last night. Intense, heavy, and... good sex. I'm... I'm not gonna say I remember all of it. There's bits and pieces..." Shiro trailed off, the image of Lance's blushing face and bliss glazed eyes flashing throughout his mind in a way that made something flutter in his gut. "Lots of bits and pieces..." his voice drew down in a loving sort of purr at that statement, but Shiro blinked his eyes and shook his head when he remembered his point.

"I know... I know that was your first time and I know it... I know I might not have been what you wanted. I'm sorry it went down like that, Lance. I probably got out of hand and we were drunk and I pushed it... I'm sorry." He gave a sad huff, looking down again. "I just... I just wanna make sure you're okay with how everything went..."

Lance's face was a very vibrant red, yet he had still gone pale. He wasn't exactly sure how to respond to the idea that all of this had actually happened. He couldn't respond to the idea that Shiro remembered 'lots of bits and pieces' while he remembered basically none of it.

God, what was he supposed to say? He'd given consent, he was pretty sure that he had instigated it and he had dragged Shiro to the bed. He could vaguely remember being on Shiro's lap, if he tried hard enough, but it was all a blur after that.

"No, it's okay," he found himself saying. "I mean, just because we were both drunk doesn't mean that it wasn't a good thing, right?" he asked, not even sure what he himself meant by that. "I mean- I- What am I supposed to do? I can't take it back. Not that I would want to! I- Oh god, let me start over," he mumbled, his mind foggy, unable to figure out what words he wanted to string together or how he was going to do it.

He took a breath and started over. "Thank you for your apology, it means a lot, and I'm okay with it. I'll be a little sore for a few days and I'll have hickeys for a little while but I'll be okay. I'll be alright. Let's just get some water and go to bed to try to recover, okay? Just give me a moment to get my boxers on."

Shiro offered a smile, and gave a slow nod, getting it. "Alright," he said softly, taking slow step backwards. "Sorry about all of, uh-" Shiro paused to point it his chest. "All of that. I mean, you got me back pretty good but... still. Uh, biting is a little much for the first time, I think." With that, and an awkward nod, Shiro left Lance to get dressed, closing the door behind him with a sigh.

He climbed into the bed, and curled himself up beneath the covers, suddenly praying he hadn't messed everything up. Shiro wondered if Lance remembered everything like Shiro had. 'Lots of bits and pieces' was quite the understatement once Shiro had the time to sit and think everything over. He remembered stumbling into the bedroom, Lance unbuttoning his white shirt while Shiro undid Lance's belt buckle -- and then he remembered from there on. Some spots, of course, were fuzzier than others, but somehow he had his brain remember pretty much everything else. Shiro put his hands up to his whirling head, and groaned again -- quieter, and this tie to himself.

It was good sex.

Shiro bit his bottom lip and tried not to think about it. He wouldn't mention it again if Lance didn't. He just felt that would be best.

Speaking of, Lance soon left the bathroom with the same awkward limp in his step. He settled into bed beside Shiro, shifting close and leaning against him. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he just held onto Shiro and pressed close, seeking his warmth and comfort, beginning to study the marks that he had left. At least he wasn't the only one who had been marked.

He smiled a little, his eyes flickering to Shiro's face. Shiro didn't seem too affected by it, so why should he be? He wanted to be casual about it. He wanted to try to be, at least. He wasn't asking too much- just for his mind to stop making it out like it was a huge, drastic change that will ruin their relationship forever.

"Hey, Shiro," he eventually spoke up again. "Where are your glasses? You've not been wearing them. I know you have contacts but did you forget your glasses- or do you just not wear them much?"

Shiro furrowed his brow, and looked over to the bedside table. "They're right there," he said, nodding to his half open glasses. He blinked his eyes a little, finally registering the dry itchiness of his contact lenses. "I totally forgot to take my contacts out last night. Shit." Shiro pushed up turned away from Lance and quickly took the old lenses from his eyes, which watered with irritation when he tried to blink the glaze of his natural vision away. He set the contacts down on the table, not caring if they dried up, turned back to Lance, and smiled.

"But yeah, I don't wear them out much. I would wear them at home, mostly because contacts get annoying... but I don't like the way I look in them," he explained, settling back down in his cuddled up spot beside Lance, wanting his warmth again. Shiro closed his eyes, almost trying to somehow curl closer to Lance.

Shiro didn't quite know how Lance felt about their night together... but he knew how he felt. He felt good about it... really good. He felt closer to Lance because of it. Despite its obvious brutalness to both of their bodies, Shiro had to say it made him feel better than he had in awhile. It felt better than Keith's sex -- as guilty as it made him to think such a thing, Shiro couldn't deny it. Sleeping with Lance was more beautiful than his weed inspired bouts with Keith. It felt more... more real. More passionate. Every touch had made made his heart sing and his head roar. It made him feel like he did when he was with Adam... but different at the same time. A good sort of different. Not a better different, of course but...

A good one.

"I like how you look with glasses," Lance admitted. "It's cute. You look like a total dork. Less like the dangerous mafia Shiro that you were when we met," he said softly, turning his attention to Shiro's face. He cupped his cheeks and brought him close to peck his lips.

He was just settling down and keeping his thoughts busy, trying not to think of Lotor and Allura or the sex or how fucking sore he was because of it. Instead, he was just going to think of Shiro. His boyfriend that he still couldn't quite believe was his boyfriend.

He began running his fingers through his hair, leaning in and kissing along his neck, admiring a few marks that he had left. They both had their fair share of hickeys, though, so he couldn't be mad about that. He could be about the scratches and bites, but he thankfully wasn't.

Shiro smiled, closing his eyes and tangling their legs together beneath the blankets. "Oh, I was just so scary when we first met, wasn't I?" he said in a sarcastic hum, gracing his blunted fingernails up and down Lance's arm, feeling his goosebumps rise up from his flesh on contact. "'Oh dear Sendak! Don't kill the poor little officer!' Hm... so threatening... You must have been terrified."

Lance laughed softly.

"In all fairness, I was terrified. More of Sendak, but you were pretty fucking intimidating, too. I mean- I'd thought that there would have been two or three people and then there were like seven! And you were the only one who wasn't gonna fucking shoot me. I thought that I was dead for sure, and I didn't even know what to do when you told me to leave. And- god- don't even get me started on how stupid I felt when I asked for some cocaine."

Shiro snorted. "That was pretty stupid."

Lance pressed into Shiro's neck, laughing a little. "Must have been funny to watch, though- an officer bursting down the door to find himself vastly outnumbered. He's holding his gun but he's never shot someone with anything but paintballs before. Fucking shaking like a leaf, too. I thought I was gonna throw up."

Shiro laughed along with him, running his fingertips in small circles about Lance's back. He brought his hand up to Lance's shoulder and traced against the constellations of his freckles, smiling. Lance had a lot of freckles — all about his arms and his back and his shoulders and his legs and is thighs. Shiro felt as thought he had to kiss them all... and he certainly felt that way last night from what he could remember. He blushed, and put his hand on Lance's back again, hoping to push the night before from his train of thought all together.

"It was funny enough, I guess," he said in a slow, quiet tone. "I felt bad for you though. Sure, you were being a dumb cop and all, but I guess I just didn't think you deserved to get shot." Shiro shook his head, and let out a soft huff of laughter.

"Whatever. You couldn't have looked more stupid than I did when your Goddamn dog tackled me for my sub. Now that was pathetic." Shiro puckered up his face like he'd bitten into a sour lemon, the memory making him cringe. "Really pathetic."

"Not too bad, though," Lance said with a smile. "Not in comparison to how I responded. Is this just a nostalgia trip now?" he asked, leaning in and pressing his lips to Shiro's. "Because you're being oddly sentimental. Are you dying? Am I dying?" he asked playfully, leaning in and kissing him again, smiling against his lips.

"We should talk to Lotor and Allura, though. Tell them both that we're alive and apologise for being drunk idiots that almost fucked in their car."

Shiro laughed, a little, offering a shrug as he kissed Lance back. "I'm sure they can deal with it," he said, smirking. "Besides, they're gonna totally know we had sex. I didn't pack any concealer and these hickeys aren't fading anytime soon." Shiro lifted his hand from Lance's back to rub down the side of his neck, feeling at the rough patches again.

He turned about so he laid on his side, putting a hand on the side of Lance's face. "They might be downstairs. There's a breakfast buffet, I think. We can get dressed and go, if you'd like," Shiro sighed, pressing a kiss to Lance's forehead. "Maybe shower off real quick? Whatever you want to do."

Lance shrugged a little. "Yeah, sounds great. I'll go shower first- I'll be out sooner than yesterday- and get ready while you shower. Alright?" he asked as he leant in and pressed his lips to his lips again.

He wriggled out of bed and slipped out, muttering a curse as he hobbled to the bathroom, going to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, sighing softly as he stepped under the warm shower. His eyes closed, feeling the tension leave his strained body. He'd be much, much better after this. He needed a short while to recover, to stop his aching body from pestering him further.

He washed his hair and body, out of the shower after twenty-five minutes, able to walk without limping too noticeably now. Well, much less noticeable compared to when he first woke up. Now he was debating whether or not to actually get dressed. He could easily just go back to bed and fall asleep.

And doing so with Shiro- sure they had killed every single morning doing the same thing, but wanted to do it again.

He just couldn't get enough of Shiro.

Shiro waited patiently, sitting upright on the bed, legs crossed and thumbs twiddling boredly in his lap. He a few things to pass those very long and lonely twenty-five minutes. Shiro ran his fingers about the seams and steel of his new arm some more. He stood up and picked out a shirt to put on after his shower, and then ripped off the one sleeve of that shirt, dismally saying goodbye to his right sleeve as he tossed it in the bedroom bin. He wondered if whatever town they had been moving to would have a tailor or something -- someone who could fix all his shirts so they fit the bulk of his new shoulder. He listened to the hissing of the pipes and the patter of water against the shined plaster of the shower floor, wondering if Lance was taking as long as it felt, or if Shiro was just growing too clingy. He had to admit, with a rush of heat to his cheeks as he wandered about aimlessly through their apartment bedroom, seconds seemed to feel like years when Lance was away.

Finally, he heard the shower squeak to a stop. Shiro turned to the bathroom, heard the shower door open, and then looked away to the floor in search of the towel he had used the day before. He found it half tucked beneath the bed and scooped it up, holding it on his metallic forearm along with his freshly ripped up shirt and black jeans to wear. Shiro leaned back onto the bed, and waited for Lance to finish up, vowing to keep his own shower short and snappy despite the sudden yearning of his stiff muscles to just sit under the drumming of the warm water. He didn't want to keep Lance waiting too long.

Lance thanked him and pecked his cheek, moving to the bag and rummaging through it. He soon found some nice blue jeans and a black shirt, waiting for Shiro to go to the shower so that he could get changed. He smiled a little, settling on the bed while he waited for Shiro to return. He really hoped that the shower wouldn't take too long- he was kinda interested in seeing what was available for breakfast.

Following his promise, Shiro kept his shower to at least ten minutes or so -- only letting those extra few drag on as he let the steam and the heavy stream of water beat and coax at his tensioned muscles in his shoulders. He washed himself off with those sweet smelling hotel soaps and shampoos -- soaps and shampoos he was sure he'd be stealing -- and dried off his clean, softer skin with the slightly damp hotel towel he had used just yesterday. Shiro wrapped it around his waist as he situated his hair, and then began to dress himself with the clothes he brought into the bathroom. He was just about done -- tired looking and still a little dizzy from his hangover, of course -- when he left the bathroom, flicking the lights off and shutting the door behind him. He scanned the floor for socks, plucked them up, and slipped them on, leaning back on the bed as he did so.

"So, you're doing the talking, right?" Shiro asked as he straightened up, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt and tucking in the ripped hem. It was a black sort of pullover -- stylishly baggy and made from thick fabric. It was one of his favorite things to wear after either a long night drinking or having sex or even just both.

Shiro suddenly wondered why he'd pack such a thing.

"You're the one who wanted to apologize to them -- I think it's only fair you do the talking," he continued, pretending he hadn't just asked himself that. Lance laughed softly, wrapping one arm around Shiro.

"Of course I'll do the talking, dumbass. Just relax and try not to be too nervous, alright?" he asked, leaning in and pecking Shiro's cheek.

He then began bringing him downstairs, shifting about and trying to think of what exactly he was gonna say to Lotor and Allura. How, exactly, was he supposed to apologise? 'Hey, sorry for almost having sex in the back of your car' 'sorry for spending all of the money you gave us and being drunk by the time we left'- what the hell was he meant to say? He was suddenly wishing he hadn't decided to go, but they were already in the elevator now and slowly making their descent to a hellish confrontation that Lance was definitely overthinking.

Once they were in the lobby, it took Shiro about three seconds exactly to pinpoint the two white-headed lovebirds sitting in a small, double seated table somewhere in the breakfast lounge. They each had a cup of steaming something -- Shiro guessed it was coffee — and chatted with warm smiles as they had done the night before. Shiro nudged Lance with his elbow, and nodded over to the couple, and the two made their way forward. Shiro watched a look of dissatisfaction spill across Allura's face when she noticed he had been approaching their morning meal.

Shiro guided Lance to the table, took a step back, and gave him a grandeur sort of gesture, letting out a sarcastic snicker when Lance glared at him for it. Finally fixing his eyes onto the two of them, he began speaking again.

"I- Uhh- Hey, Allura, I want to... uhhh... apologise. About last night. For the excessive spending of your money and for the- the behaviour of-"

"Lance," Allura interrupted, saving Lance from humiliating himself further. "We understand. Thank you for your apology. I trust that you got enough sleep?" she asked, eyes flickering to Lotor. They were holding hands under the table and Allura gave Lotor's hand a soft squeeze. He wasn't a morning person (he wasn't an anything person. It wasn't even an issue with waking up, due to his insomnia) so he just stayed quiet as he sipped his drink. It wasn't coffee, as suspected. Shiro wasn't the only one with a sweet tooth- Lotor was currently drinking hot chocolate.

Lance's eyes flickered to Shiro, who was trying to conceal his laughter at Allura's question. "I think so," he said. "I woke up with a hangover and don't know when I fell asleep, but I had a shower and I'm not exhausted. I think we should go find a different place to sit, though- you guys are clearly having a nice... meal..." he faltered, his words failing him. "We'll go. Thanks, again, for yesterday. It was nice- it meant a lot. I'll see you later. Let me know if there are any updates with the house!" he called, already beginning to drag Shiro away so that he wouldn't say anything obnoxious.

Shiro was dragged all the way to a table at the far side of the breakfast cafe. They plopped down in their seats, Shiro still giggling and Lance still blushing up a storm. Shiro plucked up one of the menus, grinning boisterously as he flipped through the breakfasts, wondering what sort of caffeine he could use to boost his system.

"What are you getting? Hangover still has me a bit nauseous so I won't be totally going all out," Shiro hummed, setting the menu down onto the table. "It all looks good, I guess." Lance settled down beside him, leaning against him.

"I'm going to get a hot chocolate and some toast. What will you have?" he asked, leaning in and pecking his cheek. "I just want something simple to settle my stomach."

He brought his legs onto the chair, shifting closer to Shiro and pressing another soft kiss to his cheek.

Shiro gave a hum, thinking. "Toast sounds good. So does hot chocolate. Lots of whipped cream and shit," he said, dreamily. "That'd be great."

He leaned into Lance's kiss, draping his arm over Lance's shoulder. "You think they noticed? I don't think they did. I almost gave it away, but still."  
"I think the shit on my neck and how I remember acting gave it away. And how Lotor looked at us- It was really obvious. Can we not focus on that? I just want to have breakfast. We can take Blue for a walk together and maybe we could go to a cafe if Allura will ever lend us any money ever again."

Shiro nodded. "That sounds nice," he said, sounding genuine. He leaned closer studying the marks against Lance's neck with a look of dull guilt. Shiro lifted a finger to brush against one of the more nasty looking ones, flicking his eyes up to Lance's and locking them there. "They don't hurt, do they? I've had them before... I'm guessing you haven't..." Slowly, Shiro moved forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the bruise he'd been touching, pulling away with a smile in his eyes and on his lips.

"I could kiss them better for you?"

Before Shiro got to hear Lance's answer, a waitress came to their table and asked them in a painfully cheerful voice what they would be having. Shiro ordered for the both of them, hitting her with a wink and a smile -- still feeling a bit too mischievous for that early in the morning -- and watched her go off with her notepad, pink in her face. After that, Shiro turned his flirty attention back to Lance, almost craving more of his affection.

He was being ridiculous, but he couldn't quite help it. His mind was fogged and misted over with Lance.

Lance, Lance, Lance.

"No, no kissing them better," he said as he looked up at Shiro. "What is with you now?" he asked with a smile, a little jealousy beginning to stir in response to Shiro's slight flirting with the waitress. "Flirting with anyone now? Come on, Shiro, at least tone it down a little."

He leant against him, smiling a little as he took ahold of his hand, squeezing it gently. He couldn't help being jealous. For fucks sake, though, Shiro was gay! It shouldn't even be annoying him that he winked at the waitress but it was. It really, really was.

"I wasn't flirting," Shiro said with a laugh. "Just being nice — I'm in a good mood."

He looked down to Lance, a slick smirk splayed across his cheeks. "Are you jealous?" Shiro asked in a hum, tracing circles about Lance's knuckles. "If so, that's cute. I like that."

"I'm not jealous!" he snapped, pulling his hand back and huffing. "I'm not jealous. I just don't like that you were being like that to her," he mumbled sharply. He was very much jealous but he wasn't going to just admit that. Shiro wouldn't stop teasing him for it if he did.

"I mean, you wouldn't like it if I started making eyes at Lotor, would you?" he continued, being incredibly defensive. If that wasn't a giveaway, then the redness of his cheeks would make it blatant.

Shiro frowned a little. "That's different," he said, a little sour himself at the thought. "Lotor's a hot, manipulative asshole and you're bi. That waitress is some twenty year old chick who was giving me googly eyes from across the room, and I'm gay. I would have a right to be jealous. You don't have anything to worry about, dude."

He leaned back, shimmying his back against the cushion, trying to rub the disgusted chill from his skin that arose from Lance's suggestion. His arm, where the attachment was, stung a bit — dully though, not as bad as the day before. Shiro reached up to rub at it, frown deepening.

"I forgot to take my pills," he grumbled, mostly to himself. "Probably forgot them last night too. Whoops."

Lance just stayed quiet for a few moments, starting to feel guilty now. He hadn't meant to get jealous- of course he hadn't meant to- but he didn't like Shiro's flirting. If it had been an issue that the waitress had been staring, why hadn't they just kissed? The whole thing was bullshit.

Nonetheless, their food was soon served- by the same waitress, so Lance took great pleasure in pressing kisses to Shiro's cheek and asking if that was 'everything, dear?', until she had left. Then he pulled back and shifted away from Shiro so that he could start sipping his hot chocolate. He didn't bring up his behaviour toward the waitress- he didn't plan on bringing it up, either.

Shiro noticed Lance's sudden behavior, however, and smiled. He dismissed it with nothing more, leaning forward on the table, his hot chocolate mug gripped lazily in his hands as he sipped at it. He gave a soft sigh, and scooted a little closer to Lance so their shoulders touched. His golden toast sat steaming on his plate beside a cup of jelly. Shiro hesitated, wondering if his turning stomach could take it.

"So the park?" he asked after a moment or so of silence. "I heard it's nice — the one around here. Has a garden and everything. And a dog park. Sounds nice enough."

"Yeah, it is. It's nice. I went there with Blue," he said as he leant back in his seat, holding his mug with both hands, cradling the hot drink in his cold hands. He just kept his eyes on the table for a few moments.

He took a small bite of his toast, tipping his head onto Shiro's shoulder after a moment, when he had set his cup down. His eyes closed after a moment as he relaxed, simply enjoying the breakfast and the closeness of Shiro. He was warm. As irate as he was, he just enjoyed Shiro's warmth too much to move away from him or to object.

Shiro finished his hot chocolate faster than Lance had, and then moved onto his toast — which had cooled down considerably so. It tasted all right, he guessed. Might have been better if it was still warm, but Shiro didn't mind. "When were you able to do that?" he asked through a mouthful of crunchy toast. He swallowed, took a sip from the complementary cup of water the waitress had brought them, and then started again. "We've been, like, inseparable the entire time we've been here."

Ah. Lance hadn't brought it up to Shiro that he'd been kicked out during his operation.

 

"Oh, fuck, I-" he bit his lip a little. "During your operation, actually," he said nervously, his eyes flickering to Shiro. "Coran kicked me out as soon as you were unconscious. I came back when you woke up, but I still had to leave for a few hours. I took Blue for a walk and had a talk with Allura while I was out," he explained as he focused on his drink, sipping it a little. He'd finished his toast now, and was deciding that studying the froth on his hot chocolate was better than seeing Shiro's reaction to the news.

He didn't think he could handle seeing Shiro's outrage.

Shiro's eyes widened a little, but he didn't let much else show. "Oh," he said, keeping his eyes on the table. "Alright. That's alright. Was it fun?"

He didn't quite understand why he cared — why there was that pang of feeling deep in his gut and spreading about his insides. Shiro gave a soft sigh, twiddling with his fingers almost nervously. He tried to push the thoughts away.

"It was alright," he said with a shrug. "Allura was a little rude about you but it was nice to get out. I kept worrying about you, though. Blue was happy to get out," he mumbled, just absently talking and talking and talking, keeping his eyes on the drink in his hands as he took another sip. The atmosphere between them had changed. It was almost suffocating- Lance didn't know what to say next.

He regretted bringing it up. Sure, he needed to confess sometime but he hadn't wanted then to be now and he didn't like how Shiro seemed so careless when it was a big thing and had clearly upset him.

Shiro forced a huffing sort of laugh, mustering a twitch of a smile and a nod. "What did she say about me?" he asked, trying hard to change the pressure of the air about them. "Don't hold back — I'm curious. I really don't think she likes me all that much."

"She, uh, didn't say much. She said you were unreliable and rude, asked me if you made me kill Sendak, constantly asked whether or not I was just experiencing Stockholm syndrome- etcetera. I had to talk to Blue before she got the hint that I didn't like her interrogating," he muttered, kicking the floor a little and sighing. "She also called you a dickhead but you could probably have figured that out. She'd have said it to your face if you weren't unconscious."

Shiro laughed again, this time more genuine. "Hah, yeah, true."

Lance soon set down and empty cup and began moving out of his seat. "Come on, if we go now we can catch Allura and Lotor and ask to go take Blue for a walk."

Shiro, still a bit silent, nodded and began slipping out from his own seat. He slipped a couple dollars tip for the waitress — making sure Lance couldn't see so he wouldn't mistake human decency for flirting again — and then followed him back to Allura and Lotor. The two seemed to have finished their drinks, and spoke to each other, both scrolling through their phones during what had to be a casual conversation. Shiro watched as Lotor caught sight of them, and was briefly reminded of Lance's previous statement. His skin prickled, and his eyes turned downwards, trying to cross his arms in a sort of pout when they stopped. Shiro just looked as though he had been awkwardly hugging himself with that odd gap in his arm. The idea made him pout even more.

Lance glanced at him but put it off as he waved at Allura.

"Hey!" he called as they stood and began to the door, dashing over to walk beside them. He was walking aside Lotor now, solely because he had approached on that side. He was choosing not to torment Shiro with this, instead just focusing on Allura. "Hey, Allura, I was wondering if we could go to the park today? I need to take Blue for a walk and I wanted Shiro to get out for a bit and-"  
"Yeah, Lance, that sounds fine," she said with a patient smile, her hand finding Lotor's. "I'll meet you in the lobby in half an hour. I still need to get dressed properly and do my makeup and Lotor, I think, needs to as well."

The male only nodded, keeping his eyes ahead as they continued walking. Lance glanced behind him to check for Shiro, holding his hand out for him to join them. Shiro took it, and pulled Lance a little closer, eyes still uncomfortably focused on Lotor.

"Thanks, Allura. Half an hour, so quarter to ten?" he asked as he glanced back at Shiro again. He was trailing behind a little so Lance gestured for him to catch up. "Sounds great. I'll get Blue all ready. Thanks again- it means a lot."

"Mm," she said, glancing back at Lotor as her steps faltered slightly. "Oh, by the way- did Kolivan respond to the calls yet? I've been trying to contact him for days now. I'm worried that something serious has happened. I'll call him again when we get back."

"Kolivan!" Shiro blurted, the exclamation leaving him before he could stop himself. Shiro froze, stopping short in his tracks. The rest of the little group stopped with him, each and every head turning his way. Shiro watched Allura cock her brow at him, and felt a hot panging of guilt burn at his system. Shiro offered a cringe, wincing as though he'd had a sip of rotten milk. He spoke again, tried to smooth and soften his tone. "Jheez... Allura. Kolivan is- ow!"

"Sorry," Lance said, lifting his foot from Shiro's and smiling at Shiro innocently- as if he hadn't just stomped on his foot to shut him up. "Ignore that. Sorry," he said again, taking Shiro's hand tighter and dragging him into the lifts before either of the silver-haired duo could question it, pressing the button to close the doors impatiently until, finally, they were secluded in the lift.

Then he turned his attention to Shiro.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked, hissing a little.

Shiro looked down at Lance with wide and wild eyes. "You should talk!" he said in the same sort of hushed snap. "My foot hurts! Why'd the hell did you do that? Allura deserves to know, and I should be the one to tell her. I'm the one who murdered the guy!"

He leaned back, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "That was so dumb. Now it's gonna be even more awkward when I try to tell her again."

"I just didn't think that that was the right time to tell her," he muttered. "She might change her mind about taking us to the park. Then we might not be able to go out until she changes her opinion- and is it really the best place to tell her? In the middle of a hotel lobby?" he asked, arms folded over his chest. "Just- Just tell her later. When we're at the park or something. Alright?"

Shiro frowned at him, but, after a few moments of hesitation, gave a soft nod. "Alright. Whatever," he muttered, the elevator dinging to signify their stop. "Still no reason to step on my foot," was his added grumble as he turned to face the doors. The lift jumped to a pause, and the elevator slid open with a whirring noise. Shiro stepping quickly from them as if he'd been trying to escape the conversation all together.

He made it all the way for the door of their room, and patted for the key he had forgotten to stick in his back pocket. Shiro waited for Lance to open the door, hands on his hips rather then crossy folded over his chest, and then slipped in. He made his way to the room and onto the bed, plopped down, and gave a great sigh -- closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the cushioned bedpost. Black began rubbing at his ankles, purring for attention. She hopped on his lap, and he petted her, eyes still closed and head still whirling.

What was he doing wrong? He tried to be affectionate, but that didn't work. He tried to be funny, and that certainly didn't work. He tried to be better by being truthful to Allura and Lance didn't want anything to do with it. It suddenly occured to Shiro ever single thing he'd subconsciously do to try and fix things from the night before were backfiring rather violently. Why was it things were so tense? So strange? Why was it Shiro was so... erratic in his ways with Lance all of a sudden?

Because they had sex? Because Lance didn't like the sex? Because Lance thought he was coming off too strong?

Because you're a bad boyfriend, dipshit. You were a bad boyfriend to Adam, and now you're a bad boyfriend to Lance. You're no different than you were four years ago, Takashi.

Not at all.

Shiro closed his eyes a little tighter, and grit his teeth behind his lips. Of course that was the reason. Of course it was. He was a bad romancer -- he hopeless and spontaneous and headstrong and stubborn. Those qualities made him a worse person altogether. Those qualities brought the crash and burn to every single type of relationship he had ever had. His relationship with his parents. With Matt. With Keith. With Adam.

And soon it would be the same with Lance, now wouldn't it?

Lance would grow sick of him -- sick of stressful mornings like that one and sick of his ever changing moods. He'd leave... or at least want to and never do anything about it. Shiro didn't know which thought made his heart hurt more.

They had rushed into it. Shiro let Lance rush into it because he was just too desperate for Lance's affection. He didn't want Lance to see all those awful little qualities and run away. He took advantage of Lance's loneliness to help heal his own... and that made him an even uglier person than he thought he was.

Shiro sighed again, and petted Black behind her ears, trying to keep himself from spiraling. My, how his moods would change. Just about fifteen minutes ago he was all over Lance and gushing like an idiot. Just then the very thought of even letting himself look at Lance made him feel dirty and cruel. He just guessed that was just one of those awful qualities.

Lance sighed as he came into the room. He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a jacket and slipping it on. He didn't talk to Shiro as he dug around for the leash for Blue, whistling for her and almost immediately hearing the soft scratchy sound of her paws on the hard flooring.

He knelt down, giving her pets and kisses as she trotted inside. He pressed kisses along the top of her head, smiling at her and baby-talking, telling her that they were going to go to the park again, before sending her onto the bed, where she slumped down beside Shiro, sniffing his leg and Black. She licked the top of Black's head, which would normally get her scratched but instead she earned soft purrs.

Lance soon got onto the bed, shifting over as he settled beside Shiro, Blue between them. She wriggled a little, somehow managing to roll over to be lying on her back, looking up at Shiro as if he owed her belly rubs.

Lance just smiled. He didn't know what to say to Shiro. He didn't know how to say anything if he knew what to say.

He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to say that he had appreciated the effort to be honest with Allura. He wanted to say that he just didn't like the flirting and that it set him on edge. He wanted to say that it wasn't that big of a deal, that he loved Shiro, but he didn't get the chance to. He just couldn't figure out how to get the words to leave his tongue and he didn't know what to do.

He didn't like how sad Shiro seemed. His eyes were darker than they'd been for the past few days and he was doing that frown again. It put Lance on edge. He didn't like seeing him like that.

"S-So- Uhh," he began, his eyes flickering from the dog to Shiro. "You looking forward to, uh, going out?" he asked after a moment, keeping his eyes on Blue as her tongue rolled out of her mouth, letting out a quiet yap for Shiro's attention. "We haven't gone out together- aside from the restaurant- so I'd- I'd like to just go outside somewhere with you."

Shiro nodded a little, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Fresh air would be nice."

There were a few moments of stretching silence, tha elephant in the room so apartment it had almost been as though it stood upon Shiro's chest, crushing and suffocating him as it bent his ribs onwards and flattened his lungs. Just to make sure he could, Shiro sucked in a great breath, pushed himself up a little straighter against the bedpost, and then let the air out in a great blow of air. He kept his eyes forward — not looking at Lance.

"Sorry," he said stupidly. "Sorry. I... I suck. I'm sorry I winked at the waitress and I tried to confess to Allura. I'm sorry we had sex last night and I'm sorry I said I only remembered bits and pieces because really I remember all of it." Shiro closed his eyes again, and gave a huff. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess of a person. And I'm sorry you're probably going to have to go through this all over again tomorrow and the next day and the next day because I'm just... like this. Clingy and stupid and impulsive and needy."

Shiro lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. He had opened his eyes, but he looked down to Black rather than the man he he was giving his earnest apology to. "I'm sorry you've got such a lame excuse for a boyfriend," he concluded in a mutter, biting at the inside of his cheek.

Lance wrapped his arms tightly around him, just clinging to Shiro, guilt eating at him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "That I got upset at you for that. You were just being playful and I just got jealous. And then you were being honest and-" he pulled back, slumping down beside Shiro and taking ahold of his hand again. "I'm sorry that I'm not better at dealing with things. I'm not upset at you for any of it, Shiro. You're clingy but it's cute. It's not annoying in any way. You're not stupid- and sure you're impulsive but your impulsive decisions have saved my life twice now. Your impulsive decisions are the whole reason we're dating." He leant in, pressing a soft kiss to Shiro's lips.

He offered a fond smile, leaning in and kissing him again. "You're not a lame excuse of a boyfriend. You just can't see all of the good things that you do."

He checked the time and began to move off of the bed, picking up the leash. "We're due in the lobby in five minutes. Are you coming? Or do you want to mope around and brood for a little longer?" he teased, winking playfully at Shiro.

Shiro smiled a little. "I'll go," he said quietly, nodding. "I can nope and brood around the park just fine."

His mind still worked out what Lance had said— twisting and pulling every word as though Lance's response had been softened taffy. He ran it through his head again and again, wondering if he trusted it or not. Trusted all those little bandages Lance had given him to cover up those harsh scars he admitted to owning. Part of him painfully didn't want to believe it — part of him cynically told him that Lance was just lying to make them both feel better about themselves.

The other part, however, trusted him.

He liked that part a little better.

Shiro slipped off of the bed, set Black down on the floor, and stretched a little. His shoulder promptly ached at the action, and he remembered the bottle of pills he left on the bedside table. Shiro shook three out into his hand as Lance clipped Blue to her leash, and then dry swallowed them, hoping they wouldn't make him drowsy or anything before their walk. He leaned back on the bed, and waited for Lance to finish with Blue, patiently drumming his fingers against the clanking metal of his arm.

They'd go downstairs, meet Allura and Lotor, and then head off to the park. Sometime during their adventure he'd have to get Allura alone so they could talk. Shiro thought about for a moment, a cringed. He quietly wished Lance had let him tell her right then and there — to rip off that bandage instead of letting it sit upon its festering wound. It would have been easier for him. Maybe Allura, too, but he didn't know.

Shiro saw Lance loop the leash about his wrist, and leaned off of the bed, cocking his head a little. "Are you ready?" he asked Lance, leaning down to give Black a parting scratch.

Lance stood, scratched behind Blue's ear and opened the door. His arm was almost torn off immediately as Blue attempted her dash for freedom. Finally Lance got ahold of her again and began to the lift, glancing back at Shiro. "You coming?" he asked teasingly, stepping into the lift and keeping the door open for Shiro with his foot. "I don't want to third wheel Lotor and Allura."

Shiro laughed a little. "That does sound like a nightmare," he said in a sarcastically thoughtful hum, tone a little bright than before. He made his way into elevator, pressed the button for Lance, and watched as the doors slid to a close. "Are they like... actually a thing? I thought you said Allura was dating a chick, or something? Is she cheating?"

"No- No, they just- They just act like they're a thing. They did date at one point- Allura told me a few things the other day, at the park. I had to interrogate her to get even one answer, though," he muttered as he leant against Shiro. "Romelle is her girlfriend but she's often working or away. She's the one who broke them up, too, so Lotor really hates her."

He smiled slightly as he straightened up, squeezing Shiro's hand. Blue, who had just noticed Shiro after thoroughly sniffing the elevator, began yapping and jumping, leaping up at him with her paws on Shiro's stomach, yapping happily (and loudly) at him.

Shiro petted her, wincing at the pinwheels of pain each and every bark would spur about in his hangover. "Shh," he hushed her wearily. "No barking. Shiro's still has a headache."

The final ding of the elevator signified them they had reached the lobby, and then the doors slid to an open. Shiro gently eased Blue onto the floor, and stepped out from the lift, looking back over his shoulder at Lance, who was pulled out by the rather excited Blue. The two and their dog made their way to the front doors, where Allura and Lotor, each dressed differently than before, waited for them. Shiro got an odd look from Allura when he approached them -- likely from his screw up from earlier -- but he disregarded it.

"Alrighty," he said, clapping his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road I guess. I'm... not going to get my head shot off, right? I seem to ask that a lot but there are a looot of people who live in this area that want to kill me." Shiro's entire presence changed from his gentle muttering with Lance to the performance of a lifetime in front of the two royals before him. It almost shocked himself how quickly he had changed, but the annoyed sigh from Allura gave him all the more reason to keep being his obnoxious persona. "That would not be cool."

Allura grimaced.

"But it would save me a lot of hassle," she mumbled under her breath as she turned to face him. Her hair was pulled back into a bun. She wore a violet pencil skirt and a white tank top with a pink jacket; she had eyeliner with heavy wings and a nude lipstick, her eyes flickering from Lotor to the two opposite them. Lotor had his hair down, as per usual, with sharp, smooth flicks of eyeliner and thin wings. He had highlight and contour today, with a lavender eyeshadow, complimenting the lavender v-neck he wore with black jeans.

Shiro gave a theatrical frown. "That wasn't very nice, princess," he said in a sarcastic sort of pout.

Lance smiled a little and decided not to respond to Allura's comment.

"Are you two ready to go?" he asked, the leash shortening as Blue came trotting over again, sniffing Allura and Lotor's legs before letting out an excited yap, her tail wagging as she waited for pets. Lotor crouched down and began petting her. She was surprisingly calm when he pet her, sitting down and letting her tail thump against the floor as he scratched behind her ears and under her chin. Allura wasn't a fan of dogs, so she took a slight step back (out of sniffing and licking range) to instead focus on Lance.

 

She nodded.

"Yeah, we can go whenever you want. We can take a longer route to the park, if you like. A quieter one. While I would find the shorter route more convenient, having someone who's supposed to be shot on sight isn't convenient." 'No matter how much I want you to be shot', she refrained from saying, her teeth grit slightly. Lance just smiled.

"That sounds nice. Blue would appreciate that," he said as he glanced at Lotor, smiling fondly at seeing how easily he had tamed Blue. "She's usually a lot less patient than that. You must be pretty good with dogs."  
"Ah, I used to have a cat, when I lived with..." he cleared his throat. "And when I moved out, I adopted a dog- Quinn. He died a few years back, but he was a sweet companion."

He stood, moving back a little, and gestured ahead, smiling fondly at Lance. "After you."

Shiro's previous jealousy with a stronger, more powerful flame, fueled by that sugary smile pulling against Lotor's lips. His eyes narrowed into dark slits, Shiro moved promptly between Lance and Lotor and Lotor's gesturing hands, grasping firmly onto Lance's own. He turned to Lotor, tilted his head up, and rolled his shoulders up a little bit, ignoring the pinch of soft pain in his arm.

"Gee, thanks," he said in an almost scary yet sweetened sort of tone- one that made Lotor roll his eyes, unfazed. With that and a huff, Shiro turned away from Lotor and began to drag Lance out the door.

He tried to ignore the stifled giggling from his boyfriend.


	23. Confessing

As Shiro suspected, the park was nice. Very much so. It was well taken care of. Its white sidewalks were swept and cleaned of stains and footprints, and almost seemed to sparkle in the late morning sunlight. Its bushes and trees were trimmed to the point of such perfection Shiro almost couldn't tell their shapes had been shaped by the hand of man rather than by the hands of nature. It's lawns and grasses and fields were all picked clean of garbage and trash, the lush green of the grass interrupted aside from the occasional reddish-orange leaf that had fallen from the freshly changing trees. Its rippling pond, tucked away in the deep corner of the rectangular-ish shaped park, sparkled with clean water, its only litter being the leaves and the grasses the lawn mowers would sweep into it on their weekly rounds.

Shiro had to admit it was the cleanest, most dazzling park he'd ever been to. He almost couldn't believe he'd been in the city of New York -- it was that astounding. The distant honking and the towering buildings seen over the tippy tops of the park's canopy though reminded him. Pretty parks couldn't mask anything. It most definitely couldn't mask the fact that Shiro had been walking about unmasked in probably one of the most dangerous spots in that city (for him at least.)

Luckily, the path Allura had taken them on wasn't all that busy. It started out on that white paved walkway, but then the walkway sank away into the brown earth of a narrow path, marked up and down with the tread of footprints and pawprints of all shapes and sizes. The path was obviously rougher and more unpredictable than the pavement from the other paths, so less joggers and less bikers and less children paraded around about it. Shiro liked that. Only every so often would a couple or a family walk past them -- and every time one did Shiro would duck his head down and cast his gaze to the side.

The pathway zigzagged all about the perimeter of the park, and circled around that shimmering pond. Shiro and Lance took up in front, Blue pulling Lance along the path, equipped with her a snuffling nose and a lolling tongue. Lotor and Allura were behind them quietly taking in the scene of early Autumn about them. Shiro's hand had still been on Lances, their fingers intertwined, but the hold was looser than his jealous grasping from before. Lance spoke some, Shiro would point out a stupid looking squirrel and chuckle, Blue would bark and chase at the squirrel and then they'd both chuckle -- all of the interactions were simple and sweet. Shiro loved it -- all of it. It made him forget about his self loathing from just an hour or so before.

Finally, they strolled up to the pond. Lance pointed out some turtles or something, and shoved the leash into Shiro's hand so he could go look at them -- Shiro watched him go with a fond look, wrapping his newfound leash about his wrist a few times. Shiro looked over to Lotor and Allura, who sat themselves off on their own on one of the benches. A sudden gross sense of anxiety overcame him, and he frowned, the feeling bitter against his faint smile he'd been wearing the whole walk long. 

Tell them at the park, he said, Shiro thought bitterly, giving Lance a glance. Not like that's gonna ruin the mood or anything.

Shiro called to Lance that he was going to go talk to Allura, and, receiving Lance's uninterested nod, made his way to the bench the two white haired not-so-in-love birds shared. As usual, Shiro was given a dirty look upon his arrival, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he looked at Allura, fiddling anxiously with the leash in his hands.

"Hey, uh, Allura?" he said quietly. "I need to talk to you about something. Alone. Something important -- I promise. It's not me being an ass or anything." Allura sent a hesitant glance to Lotor, who returned it, before nodding.

"Oh, of course," she said as she sat straight, watching as Lotor stood.  
"Call me if you need me," he muttered as he walked over to Lance, who was still intently studying the turtles in the water.

Lotor sat down on the stone paving, Lance currently leaning forward dangerously as he looked at the turtles. Lotor pulled him back slightly to stop him from falling in head first and startling away the turtles. Lance, having realised how far forwards he'd been leaning, thanked Lotor enthusiastically and almost immediately burst into stories. He started talking about trips to the beaches or to aquariums with his family, or with Hunk (even mentioning a past date with Hunk at one point), spewing out random facts that he'd read at the aquariums or online or whatever.

Lotor just smiled, keeping his eyes on the male. He was enamoured, absolutely adoring the passion Lance held for all of these facts (and a little surprised at the confession that he had planned on being a marine biologist). Lance was happy that Lotor was listening to him and willingly keeping him company while he was so talkative. The last person that he had been so endlessly chatty with was Hunk. Allura had never been able to tolerate conversation with him long enough for him to get so excited, and he hadn't been in a relaxed enough environment with Shiro for anything to catch his attention. Well, nothing that he would want to talk about.

It was nice to talk to Lotor. New and refreshing. And Lotor would often chip in with little bits of knowledge here and there, too. He could see why Allura had dated him.

Now alone on the bench, her eyes fixed on Shiro Allura gestured for the male to sit beside her.

"Something important?" she asked, frowning. "Is it bad news? I hope it's nothing to do with you and Lance."

Shiro, having snapped from his watchful gaze upon Lotor and Lance, turned back around to face Allura, shaking his head as if to shake out of his jealousy. "Oh-uh-yeah," he said in a dazed mutter, moving to sit down beside her. He felt awkward and stiff, wringing his hands about the rough fabric of the leash as he thought of something to say. "It's not about us. It's... it's bad news, though, I guess."

He waited for a response, but only got a look of confusion, and a hand motion that told him to go on. Shiro swallowed hard, nodded, and bit the inside of his cheek. He went on.

"It's about Kolivan," he said in a dry sort of voice. "I tried to tell you earlier -- but Lance stomped on my foot and told me it was a bad time. He... I..." Shiro trailed off, frustrated with himself for not being able to just spit it out. "He's... he's gone, Allura. He died a few days ago. Zarkon gave the job to Sendak and me and... and we did it."

There was a heavy beat of silence, and a whisper of the trees above them as the breeze moved about their leaves.

Allura gave no response, her eyes widening a little. She kept her focus on Shiro, though, keeping herself as calm as she could while she listened to him finish.

"I didn't want to," he blurted. "I swear. Not that it'll make it better it's just..." Shiro trailed off, cursing himself for being so rash to justify himself. Murder was not justifiable. If he wouldn't let Lotor get away with it, he wouldn't let himself get away either. "That's why he went off grid. Sendak and I did it. That's what happened. I thought you should know."

She considered what she was going to say to him for a few, tense moments.

"I appreciate that you told me, Shiro," she said, her voice calmer than she'd expected. Unusually relaxed. "And I understand that it wasn't a choice that you had. I'll need to have a funeral for him, a memorial set up, a plaque with the rest of the names of fallen members," she mumbled to herself, thinking it over. "We'll send some people to retrieve any of his leftover stuff. He had no family so we don't need to worry about letting them know..."

 

She sighed softly, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Worry was clear in her eyes. She was focused, determined to figure out what she was doing. How she was dealing with this.

Another lost life. So soon after the last- She wasn't sure how this news would be broken.

Her eyes were fixed on the trees as they rustled in the wind, no longer even looking at Shiro. She spoke, though, her voice still soft but suddenly so fragile.

"Did he put up a fight?"

Shiro felt his heart twist with guilt at her tone.

"Yes," he said, voice suddenly more rough and hoarse than before. Shiro cleared his throat and shook his head. "Yes. He gave me my black eye. And some bruises on my ribs. Got me with a knife, too. He would have killed me if Sendak wasn't there. He died honorably."

The words tasted disgusting on his tongue. Died honorably. He almost felt as if he could gag on them, feeling a repulsed scowl pull at his lips. Died honorably. Yes, Kolivan died honorably, but at his hands. What a horrid thing for a murderer to say about his victims. Shiro's fingers had gone red and raw from how much he tangled and untangled them from that leash in his hands.

"I'm sorry," he half whispered. "I know it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't change anything. I've killed... hundreds of your people. Your... your family... I'd hate me, too. Actually, I'd probably want to kill me..." Shiro trailed off, figuring that wasn't the right way to go. "But I am. Sorry, I mean. I'm... really fuckin' sorry I wasn't brave enough to stand up to Zarkon."

"Nor was Lotor, nor are any of the Blades while they escape him to join our mafia," she said suddenly, her voice sharp and firm again. "Don't blame yourself. You did as you were ordered to do. I'll save my hatred for Zarkon."

She sighed a little, digging around in her bag and taking out a notepad. She clicked her pen and began making notes. She needed to figure out what to say at Kolivan's memorial. She needed to figure out a lot of things about what they were going to do.

"At least he died honourably," she mumbled. "It was the one thing he really deserved- dying a fighter" she continued, though her voice was too quiet for Shiro to be able to hear her properly.

She glanced over to him, as if just remembering that he was still there. "Sorry, but I think I need a few moments alone to figure all of this out. Tell Lotor that I'll need a while- I'll explain everything to him myself, so don't worry about that. I don't think that he would be as patient about it. He respected Kolivan more than any of the other blades. In fact, I'll wait until you're gone back to your hotel room to tell him. His reactions tend to be unpredictable in sensitive situations, such as this."

She sat straight, glancing to Shiro. "Have fun with Lance. Keep him and Lotor away from me for a short while. When I'm ready to talk to them again, I'll walk you back."

"Of course," Shiro said quietly, standing up. Blue, who had been resting at his heels, jumped up as well, her smiling face and excited eyes obviously all oblivious the heavy grief very present in the atmosphere. "Take all the time that you need, Princess."

Allura grit her teeth.

"You can at least have the decency to call me by name! Referring to me as 'Princess' doesn't irritate me usually, but I am trying to figure out how to deal with the death of a man that you murdered," she hissed. "Get out of my sight, Kuro, and don't say anything to me until I'm willing to talk to you. I will not warn you again."

Shiro's eyes widened, and he grimaced, but said nothing more -- as she had instructed. Frowning to himself, Shiro turned and made his way towards the pond. He stopped at a thinner but sturdy tree and tied Blue's leash securely to the trunk, so she wouldn't splash about in the pond. Shiro then made his somber way to Lance, and sat down beside him, Lotor watching him curiously from Lance's right. They were both silent -- he had clearly interrupted a conversation with that dark atmosphere about him.

"Allura wants to be alone for a while," he said in a dreary sort of tone, embarrassed and guilty. Shiro's hand found Lance's hand held it tightly, his eyes trained on the rippling of the pond water. "Remind me never to call her Princess again." That last bit was an added whisper to Lance, his tone serious.

Lance glanced up at him. He pulled Shiro to sit beside him and pecked his cheek, still trying to be cheerful despite how Shiro's demeanour alone had soured the atmosphere.

"So it's done?" he asked, a smile on his lips. "Nice. Good to, uhh, get that over with. Lotor and I were just talking about the turtles! I started rambling and ended up on a story about when I worked at Hunk's family restaurant for a few weeks over summer. I ended up burning myself on a saucepan and spilled an entire pot of soup on myself off of the stove. Hunk encouraged me to quit because his family planned on firing me when I tripped over my own two feet and threw an entire tray of food onto the floor. I haven't been there since but, if I asked nicely enough, Hunk would bring me food from the restaurant that was leftover at the end of the day. Well- only if he got to it before it was donated to a soup kitchen or packaged to be handed to the homeless. Hunk's a real sweetheart and he clearly got it from his parents."

God, Lance was ever-talkative. Not even when Shiro came to brood at the park (as promised) did he waver. Even Lotor was still smiling. He didn't ask about what had been 'done' earlier, getting the hint that it wasn't his place. If it was important, Allura would tell him later.

Shiro nodded along as Lance went on, watching the turtles swim about beneath the pond's glossy surface as he listened, smiling when he was supposed to smile and giving a weak huff of laughter when he was supposed to laugh. Every so often, when he'd glance over his shoulder to check on Blue, he'd turn to look at Allura. She sat in her lone spot on the bench, sometimes writing, sometimes doing nothing and just staring. Twice did she catch him looking, and twice did she give him a look of pure malice and hatred. Shiro would just turn around quickly and focus back onto the turtles, trying to shake the thought he had ruined that whole previous conversation with one stupid little word.

"So," Shiro said after Lance's long, prattling story. "Hunk sounds nice. You mentioned him once or twice before... he works in the force, doesn't he?"

"Yeah!" Lance announced, grinning. "He was my best friend since kindergarten. We went through every class together. We always had to be separated because we talked too much, though, and one time- I think we were in fifth grade- we brought in walkie-talkies so that we could talk to each other from opposite ends of the classroom," he confessed with a grin, laughing softly.

"And," he continued, his eyes flickering from Shiro and Lotor to make sure that he both had their attention and that they weren't getting sick of him. "And he convinced me to become a cop! We went through the academy together, we were inseparable. I hope that if I can tell anyone I'm okay, it'll be him. He always got worried so easy- hell, I never saw anyone so unfazed at the idea of people seeing him cry. Whenever I got close to crying somewhere public, though, and he could tell, he would pull me aside and let me cry it out somewhere that nobody else would see. He's the biggest sweetheart I know. And a really good judge of character- I don't think I've met anyone that he likes that I've disliked."

Shiro mustered up a smile. "Sounds like a nice guy," he said softly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Wish I could meet him."

He leaned back a little, hands laid out behind him to keep himself up. Lance had been holding onto his arm, leaning into him as he spoke on and on about Hunk and the academy and tears. Shiro listened, liking how the long story distracted him from Allura and that whole mess. Every so often his eyes would trail to Lotor, who listened contently, and -- to Shiro's bitter dismay -- smiled like he had done before. Shiro rolled his eyes to himself, shaking his head a bit.

That smile is going to disappear real fast as soon as Allura gets to talking to him.

Shiro cringed at the thought, and seemingly forgot about his jealousy.

Lance threw himself into story after story, telling tales of him and Pidge, explaining all the details about her actually being called Katie, as he spoke about meeting her in the academy, becoming a trio that got up to all sorts of shit. He told tales of being suspended (his longest suspension was for a week, he got Hunk to send him information on all of his files so he could work at home) and of various dangerous moments. He told stories that were hinted at with exaggeration but he enjoyed telling them and Lotor enjoyed hearing them. Shiro surely felt the same, but Lotor had been captivated. It was only a short while before he confessed that- "I wanted to be a cop when I was a teenager!"

Which had invited a shocked silence. Not the reaction that he had hoped for. And now that he had brought it up, he didn't really want to go into the details that he had begun being integrated into the mafia fully and knew everything that he needed to know about Zarkon's plans and how to report them to police, how to prove the dirty cops as dirty, how to get countless people out of witness protection with the takedown of his father.

He didn't want to go into any details about Zarkon's reaction, finding his son studying law and researching information on how to become a member of the police force.

He didn't want to remember the details.

Thankfully, he didn't need to.

"We should head back," Allura said from behind them, saving Lotor from having to go into an further details (or even continuing the conversation) as he nodded, stood, and started toward the park gate. Allura followed, not waiting for Shiro or Lance as the brunet took Blue's leash from Shiro and began jogging to catch up with them. It had been nice to get outside- they'd been out for around an hour and a half by now. No wonder his throat felt sore, talking for that long.

Shiro held back a bit, further behind than the others. Of course he stayed close enough as to keep Lance from worrying too much about him -- keeping a faintly interested stare upon the trees and the grass and the shrubbery. He didn't feel connected enough all of a sudden -- the strange outlier in a group of strange outlier. The strangest out of all of them. He wasn't a cop. He wasn't a cop and a mafia member. He wasn't a mafia member who wanted to be a cop. He wasn't even a mafia member anymore. He wasn't human enough to know when to stop teasing. He wasn't robotic enough to keep from feeling bad about it. He felt bad for Allura and Lotor, but he hated them too much to do anything about it.

The made it to the car after that long walk through that beautiful park. Shiro slid into his seat beside Lance, held his hand like usual, and stayed quiet. Lance spoke some more -- seemingly the only one who didn't have some sort of darker sort of attitude about him. Allura was somber in the passenger seat. Lotor was quiet and tensioned due to both Allura's presence and his own slip up from earlier. Shiro, of course, was still feeling his silent discomfort in his own skin.

When they returned, Lance thanked Allura and pulled both her and Lotor into a quick hug. Lotor hugged Blue afterwards and said goodbye as she licked his hand, only to move back after a moment for Lance and Shiro to leave.

Lance dragged Shiro to the lift and, while the doors were closing behind them, they got to see Allura send a glance their way before turning to begin speaking to Lotor- no doubt to tell him the news.

Lance couldn't think of what to say that wouldn't remind Shiro of his unsuccessful conversation with Allura earlier, so he remained silent.

The elevator rose, stopped, and soon Shiro and lance found themselves in their bedroom of their apartment room. Shiro sank into the bad, giving a great sigh as he settled himself into the blankets. He suddenly felt unbelievably tired -- emotionally worn out for the day, he supposed.

"We're up here for the rest of the night," Shiro said gently to Lance, closing his eyes. "We could order room service and spoil ourselves. Allura's gonna tell Lotor what I did -- she said he'd kinda unpredictable. He could fuckin' try to take me on all he wants but... I wouldn't want to make a scene, you know?"

Lance nodded, smiling a little.

"Yeah, that sounds great. Room service, then maybe we could have a bath?" he asked, unleashing Blue before hesitating as he realised what he'd said. "One of us. I meant one of us. Maybe one of us could have a bath or something after room service."

Shiro pulled his head up from the pillow, eyes narrowed a bit, a soft smile creeping up his cheeks. "I don't know," he said in a gentle hum, dreary and tired sounding, but a bit mischievous beneath all of that weariness. "I kind of like where your head's at, McClain."

Still smiling a little, Shiro turned and groped for that laminated menu of foods, and flipped to the lunch menu. "You wouldn't happen to be hungry now, would you?" he asked, sounding disinterested as he tossed the menu down to the foot of the bed where Lance could grab it. He laid his head back down, reaching up to pull his glasses from his face. "I'm not too hungry. Just tired. I... I think a warm, relaxing bubble bath would be just great right now. Distract me from all this other shit."

Lance shifted off of the bed.

"I think I'll save my appetite for dinner," he said as he stood, stretching a little, arms over his head. "I'll start running the bath." He lifted Black from the floor and handed her to Shiro before going to the bathroom. He turned the faucets on, checking the temperature while the boiler warmed the water, making sure that the bath would be warm enough by the time it was full. Then he dug around for bath products, dumping in excessive amounts of shower gels and bath salts. Soon, they would have a bath with bubbles galore and fruity scents that filled the bathroom.

He returned to the bedroom after a moment, leaving the bath to fill. "I really wish I still had stuff for my face masks," he said as he looked up to Shiro. "That would be the best way to relax. Eat some expensive room service in robes after a long, hot bath, with face masks." He got comfy in bed, letting his head rest on Shiro's shoulder as he began petting Black, who had curled up beside Shiro. "I'll make some as soon as we get the stuff for it, in England. I don't think we'll get it here."

"Wait," Shiro said gently, his eyes widening a bit. "So we're... we're actually gonna..." he trailed off, rolling his hand in a gestured type way, nodding to the bathroom. "I mean, I'm down. Like totally. As... As long as you're down."

Shiro listened to the gurgling of water in that large, large tub. It was still only hitting the flooring of the bathtub -- Shiro could hear the loud roaring of the water as if splashed down upon the tannish-pinkish plastic, the sound only just beginning to soften as the water rose into a gentle puddle. Shiro leaned up a little, Lance in the crook of his arm, pulled tight to his body. He could already smell the fruity soaps -- the sweet, synthesized aromas misting about the air from the ajar door of the bathroom.

Lance smiled a little. "I-I mean, you suggested it. I suggested it first, yeah, but you-" he just shifted close again and pressed a kiss to his neck. "Yeah. I want to. If you meant it, then yeah."

Shiro gave a blushy grin, and nodded. Anticipation began warming his chest. The water in the bathroom was suddenly going unbearably slow.

This was sweet. Shiro was a lot less tense than Lance would have expected him to be- especially after he had such an uncomfortable conversation with Allura. He took Shiro's hand, tracing circles on the back of his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "Do you want to tell me how it went with Allura?"

Shiro's mood faltered a little, but he kept his smile — as crooked and wan as it became, he kept it. "It went good at first. She took it... well. But then I called her 'Princess' — which apparently is her mafia name so I thought it was the right thing to say — and she wigged out on me," Shiro explained slowly, shaking his head a little. "I'm pretty sure my whole relationship with her is probably botched to the point of no return. Sorry. She's your friend — should have kept that in mind."

Lance shrugged a little.  
"No," he said softly. "It'll be okay. She'll need a little while and soon she'll be fine with you again." He didn't sound too sure of himself. It took a few moments before he left the bedroom, checking on the bath. Blue had slumped onto the bed and stuck her tongue out as she lay on her back. She rolled over and began wriggling toward Shiro, nuzzling his leg, letting out a quiet whine as a demand for his petting.

Shiro gave a soft nod, and watched Lance make his way back to the bathroom. He reached down and petted Blue, scratching behind her ears and upon her head. Shiro waited a few moments for Lance to return, suddenly wondering with a nervous anticipation just what exactly was going to happen. What was he thinking, encouraging such a thing after the catastrophe that was last night?

Shiro didn't know, and he couldn't say that he cared. He certainly couldn't find the mind power to care upon seeing Lance step back into the room, smiling and lovely. His beautiful eyes and his beautiful hair and his beautiful skin and every single beautiful detail about him was suddenly excruciatingly striking. It left Shiro in-awed at the idea of being with such a specimen.

Impulsively, his head light with a feeling of pure fondness, Shiro slipped from the bed, and met Lance halfway. He stopped in front of him, put his hand on Lance's cheek, and pulled him into a long, gentle kiss. When Shiro pulled back, he noticed the dazed fluttering of Lance's lashes, and gave a huff of laughter.

"Have I told you you're perfect yet?" he said quietly, cocking his head. "Like everything about you is so wow you know?"

And, as if he'd said a magic spell, Lance turned red. Again. God, Shiro had such overwhelming power over him.

 

"Oh my god," he muttered, his face turning redder as each second passed. "Oh my god, Shiro, really?" He looked up at him, thumping his chest lightly. "I wasn't ready for that. I'm never going to be ready for that. Jesus," he muttered, pressing his face into Shiro's chest as he wrapped his arms around his neck a little more firmly, muttering another 'oh my god' under his breath.

"And I swear to god," he muttered as he moved a little closer. "If I look at you and you've got that stupid fucking look in your eyes, I'm going to have to kiss you." Nonetheless, he pulled back. His eyes met Shiro's and, surely enough, he had that 'stupid fucking look' in his eyes. The look that meant 'I love you', that meant 'I'd do anything for you', the look that showed Lance exactly how much he meant to Shiro. The look that made his heart swell and his lips pull into a smile as he leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's without hesitation. He had a boyfriend. Not just any boyfriend- perhaps the most muscular and handsome fucker in the world. Not to mention the neat haircut- He broke the kiss.

"What were you saying about dyeing your hair white?" he suddenly asked, swinging one leg over Shiro's lap and straddling him as he played with his hair.

Shiro, in a dazed sort of giddiness, nodded, a stupid grin splayed about his face. "I was thinkin' about it, yeah," he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. Or two. Or maybe three...

He pulled back and sighed gently. "All black is too basic. Makes me look real young. Figured white was a neat idea." Shiro looked up at the bangs that fell over his eyes, furrowing his brow at the white forelock. "Do you think it would look good?"  
"I can't think of anything that wouldn't look good," he teased as he kissed him again- only to pull back and curse loudly as he began to the bathroom. He turned off the faucets and loudly announced- "It's okay! I stopped it from overflowing!"

He then stood, moving back to the bathroom and extending a hand. "Care to join me?" he questioned, flashing a charismatic grin. "The bath will only be warm for so long~"

Shiro's face went a soft pink, flushing with hot blush at the question, but nodded — standing up from his lean on the bed. "Of course," he said, stepping forward to take Lance's hand in his own. He was pulled into the bathroom, and shut the door behind him with a soft giggle — the whole conflict with Allura and Lotor and Kolivan suddenly passed from his mind.

Lance dragged him to the bathroom, shutting the door. He began removing his clothes, stripping down and stepping into the hot water, almost disappearing under heaps of bubbles, looking up expectantly at Shiro as he waited for his company.

The bath was exactly what he needed, though. He was just happy that he was going to be bathing with Shiro.

Shiro's eyes widened a little, and he stood, a bit frozen as the situation ran through his head one last time. He suddenly realized as he slipped his shirt over his head (encouraging a playful whistle from Lance), that it would be hell of a lot easier drunk. It took a bit of getting through his hesitation to undress himself, but soon enough, he found himself submerged in a pool of steaming water and an abundance of bubbles. He looked at Lance over the pile of bubble, a hot red creeping across his cheeks.

"So," he said quietly in a nervous giggle. "This is happening..."

 

Lance, laughing softly as he held out one hand to take ahold of Shiro's.

"Yeah," he said with a small grin. "Guess so." He leant back a little, getting comfy where he was as he pulled his hand away. He ducked under the water to wet his hair before he began taking the free bottles of shampoo, emptying heavy amounts onto his hand. From there he began to massage it into his scalp.

Shiro leaned back some, less concerned about cleaning himself, and more so focused on the way the warm water eased the tenseness of his muscles. Of course, having Lance so close to him when they were both so naked made him a bit... stiffer than normal... but he couldn't deny the coaxing power that warm, fizzling water had on his tired bones and stressed muscles. He sank down low, all the way down so the water lapped at the sensitive skin of his throat. The tub was big so big his knees could keep submerged beneath the bubbly surface of the water, along with his chest and his shoulders, without nudging Lance too much. Shiro sighed, and laid his head back against the edge of the tub with a soft thunking noise, stretching out his neck a little -- the sore bones popping as he cracked his neck and back a little.

 

Shiro eased his head up so he could look down at himself and Lance, furrowing his brow a little. The foamy bubbles covered them both -- Lance could see nothing of Shiro's and Shiro could see nothing of Lance's. The light from his arm glowed behind the foam and casted a strange blue across the already colorful, fruity pool of bathwater. Shiro gave a soft smile, dragging his hand through the bubbles -- feeling the way they tickled the rough skin of his palms and his fingers. His back muscles had been completely relaxed, the ones in his shoulders just beginning to join them. His gentle sheepishness at being so entirely exposed melted away as the moments ticked on, and he felt more and more comfortable in his own uncovered skin -- skin that had touched Lance's every so often in fleeting brushed accompanied with blushy, smiling glances.

The bath was a wonderful idea.

"After you're done with your hair," Shiro started, almost sinking down even lower, "we could put on the jets. Low settings, of course but... a water massage sounds great right now..." His voice was calm and blissful, focused on that moment and that moment alone. No Allura, no Lotor. None of his stupid blunders of the day, or any of them before that. It was the best he had felt in a long while -- excluding some of the moments he'd been entrapped with Lance's kiss, of course.

Successfully washing the products from his hair, Lance reached over and turned on the jets. He showed Shiro a proud and fond grin, leaning forward a little to look at his boyfriend lovingly. This was a lot less awkward than anticipated. Honestly, he quite liked the bath.

"You look relaxed," Lance noted. "It's nice. You're always so tense or stressed. Seeing you relaxed is new." He leant in a little, smiling fondly up at his boyfriend. His charming, handsome boyfriend. "You're going to be relaxed all the time in England. We're going to live a nice life. A fresh, new start, where we won't have to deal with anyone or anything going wrong ever again."

It didn't sound possible- it wasn't possible- but Lance said it with such conviction that it had to be true.

 

A life without troubles- god, they both deserved it at this point. Especially Shiro.

"Huh," Shiro hummed softly, a gentle lift of surprise pitching his little answer. "A whole life of relaxation? Sounds almost impossible... I'll probably still worry..."

Shiro's mood faltered just a bit at the thought. It was the first time he recognized that fear — the fear that nipped and tugged at the edges of his system, nagging at him quietly, the stress of it all building up as time went on in its ticking fashion. The fear of running away. The fear of Zarkon that would never leave. He could move to Antarctica and still keep a gun beneath his bed, and still lay awake at night, listening for footsteps of the man who hoped to take everything away from him again. He would never stop worrying... and the idea was harrowing in that split second. Sickening. Tiring. As long as Zarkon was still alive, he would still worry, and just thinking of that made him about ten times more tired.

But Shiro shook it away — that momentary dreariness. He was in the bath with Lance, relaxed and more content than ever. Nothing should have been able to ruin his mood. Nothing. He just focused on the bath.

The water jets drummed into Shiro's back and shoulders — soft, yet incredibly effective in calming him even more so than the simple water had. He leaned back into it, making sure his left side got more of the jets than his still sensitive right. The warmth of the bath water alone had calmed down the ache of Shiro's arm enough, kneading it away as the tenseness unwinded itself from his sore arm, leaving him content and painless. Shiro closed his eyes, and sighed again, smiling.

"You think Allura could get us a bath like this in our new house?" he asked. A pointless wish, of course, but a wish nonetheless. "At least one big enough we could share or something..." Lance laughed softly.

"Definitely," he said as he squeezed Shiro's hand. "We'll get one ourselves if she can't. Trust me, babe," he pressed a kiss to Shiro's knuckles. "This new house is going to be everything we want. Everything." He pulled his hand back, settling in the bath again. "We could have everything that we needed and wanted."

He stayed back, his eyes closed, ass no longer sore thanks to the hot water helping his aching muscles to relax. He closed his eyes, perfectly content. He doubted that they'd leave the bath until the water was no longer warm.

"Well, if we're thinking about it that way," Shiro said with a soft little laugh, "we're gonna have a bath. And one of those neat wine racks to put a lot of alcohol on. And a new bed -- and a big closet for all of my jackets. And a big TV that has American news channels so I can keep an eye on everything and watch real football."

Shiro gave a soft sigh, imagining all of the other random shit he could buy. He thought of more jackets. He thought of a new laptop and a new phone and a new bed for Black because he didn't have room to pack her old one. Of course, he had packed that ten-thousand dollar wad of hundreds he had hidden behind his toilet for emergencies -- and he didn't tell Allura that he had so much of his own money to spend. They would buy him the house and the essentials and maybe some of the more important 'wants', and then when they were gone, Shiro would break out his money and buy some of the more nonessential luxuries he planned about in his head. A nice plan. A mean one, but what the hell ever, he supposed. Him and Lance would benefit from it, and the two white-haired douchebags wouldn't.

"What do you want, babe?" Shiro asked in a honeyed up voice, the word babe actually tasting like that honey itself against his tongue. It was a sweet word. It made him feel warmer. "When we get there and everything's settled, what are your heart's main desires, hm?"

"Oh, I- I want another dog!" he said happily. "And I want a walk-in closet! I want to have- you know those loft beds? One of those but with like- a sofa underneath! We'll only have one floor to live on because the other floor will be the shop so we'll need stuff to save space, but I'd like that. And I want..." he paused for a moment, smiling fondly. "I just want to live with you. We're going to have such a nice life, Shiro. With loads of books and we'll make friends with everyone in the community and we'll- we could have a cafe extension to the bookstore! And we could-" he paused, just grinning. "I can't wait," he then said, his voice soft. "I really can't wait."

Shiro smiled warmly at Lance, loving his enthusiasm. "Another dog," he commented, a bit incredulous. "Make friends with everyone... Hm... we could try. I don't know if the British would enjoy my whole... personality." He gave a soft laugh and shook his head. "Whatever. If you want it, Lance, I can try to make it happen."

"I don't think many people like your whole personality," Lance teased with a warm grin, closing his eyes. "The bath is starting to get a little colder. Should we get out before it gets lukewarm? We can get dressed and then cuddle in bed with as much room service as we can eat~!"

Shiro laughed at Lance's joke, rolling his eyes a little. He pulled his hand from beneath the water, looking at the wrinkles that puckered the skin of his fingertips. Blinking a little, he casted his gaze to the surface of the water, noticing that a good amount of the bubbles had faded — the water misted with soap just enough he was still covered, but clear enough it made him blush a little. Shiro pulled his legs up a little, the tops of knees lifting out of the surface of the water, and he nodded, smiling a little.

"Yeah, we've been in here a while," he said with a weak giggle. "We could dry off, get some drinks and chocolate. Just chill out up here until Allura doesn't want to rip my head off anymore." Lance grinned.

"Sounds perfect," he said as he began out of the bath, taking a towel and wrapping it around his waist, covering himself up quickly. "I'll go get dressed in our room" he said as he disappeared to the bedroom, leaving Shiro to get out and get dressed.

Lance got a pair of grey sweats and a blue sweater, taking some boxers and starting to dry off before dressing himself. He left the towel around his shoulders so that his shirt wouldn't get wet while waiting for Shiro.

Shiro watched Lance go and close the door behind him, waiting a few moments before he reached up to flick the jets off. Bidding goodbye to the bathtub took a little longer than he wanted it to, but after realizing the creeping chill that spread about his skin, Shiro stood from the tub and stepped out. He pulled up the switch for the drain, and listened to the water gurgle about the pipes as it was sucked from the tub. He groped for a fresh towel, dried himself off with it, and then pulled on his boxers. Shiro slipped on the same pull over he had worn out to the walk, the one he left where he had dropped it onto the floor, but folded up his jeans instead of wearing them. He had to say he wasn't very much in the mood for pants. The pullover hung low enough, and his boxers were secure enough -- it would be fine. Shiro could properly show off the scarred muscles of his thighs and his calves that way... but... he figured Lance had seen them all up close and personal before when he thought about it a little harder.

Oh well.

He left the bathroom, his hair still quite damp, but his body dried and half dressed. He spotted Lance sitting upon the bed, and made his way to settle down beside him. He leaned forward to grab the menu up, and then wrapped his arm around Lance's waist in a small hug when he pushed himself up straight. Shiro narrowed his eyes, having left his glasses in the bathroom from when he undressed himself. He didn't feel like getting up to go get them.

"Here, read this out loud and we'll just order what we want," he said, giving up and handing Lance the menu. Shiro turned his head and smiled at him. "The bath was nice. I was feeling kinda shitty and... and it really helped. We've got to do that some more before we leave." Lance smiled.  
"Yeah, definitely," he said as he slipped out of the bed, deciding to do Shiro's eyesight a favour and fetch his glasses. He cleaned the fogginess from them and handed them over, moving to settle back beside him and wrapping Shiro's arm around himself. "But now you can read it yourself." He leant in, pressing a kiss to Shiro's cheek and settling into Shiro's neck while he closed his eyes. "So read it out to me, instead. I'm comfy and I've already done you a favour."

Shiro rolled his eyes, and let a muttered 'you didn't have to do that' slip from his lips as he pushed his glasses on. He tilted his head down to read, the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "So, for lunch today's specials are 'turkey parmesan burgers' whatever the hell that would taste like, or a 'make your own sandwich' thing. Both come with a soup or salad of your choice as a side -- you know, like rich people do," Shiro read, his sarcastic comments filled with over dramatic snarkiness. He pushed up his glasses, and cocked his head. "Then there's, like, the regular stuff we already know. Desserts look pretty much the same, too." The glasses slipped down, and Shiro, sighing, pushed them back up again. "So it's whatever you want, I guess."

Shiro set the menu down, and took off his glasses, tossing them off somewhere beside him. "I need new glasses when we move, too," he said in a dreamy sort of sigh. "Those are like seven years old and I've broken them more times than I can count."

Nodding, Lance swung his legs over Shiro's lap and pulled the blanket up to his chest. "Eh, I don't know what to get. What do you think sounds good?" he asked, pulling away a little to focus on Shiro's face. He reached up and ran his thumb across the scar that slid over the bridge of Shiro's nose, smiling a little. His glasses sat just a little above it, so he could still touch it without awkwardly poking Shiro's glasses into his face- not that it mattered when the glasses were lying on the floor somewhere. He liked Shiro's scars. Sure, he probably shouldn't like them due to the heavy history they had, but they were unique and he liked to trace them when he was tired. He could vaguely remember that from last night- lying with Shiro and deciding to run his fingertips along every scar from his neck to his stomach, shoulders to wrists.

His eyes then settled on Shiro's, meeting his gaze and smiling a little. "I think we should 'make our own' sandwiches. Then just get as many desserts as we can eat without throwing up."

Shiro nodded slowly, basically melting at Lance's touch. "That sounds good," Shiro said with a gentle grin. He closed his eyes, moving a little closer to Lance, holding him a little tighter in his arm.

"What are you gonna get on yours?" he asked tiredly, sighing a little. "I think I want a good old fashioned BLT. Haven't had one of those in a while. And then some random salad with some Italian dressing would be cool. I think that's what I'm goin' for."

"Damn, get one for me too, but I want something spicy on it," he said as he held tighter to Shiro, leaning his head on his chest. "Do you think that they'd mind bringing the food in here? I don't mind that. I don't want to get up." He pressed into his neck, kissing it softly, bringing the blanket up more to snuggle up under it.

Shiro shrugged his free shoulder -- the one Lance hadn't been laying on. "I don't think they would. I'll get up and go get it though," he said. "So, two BLTs, one with hot sauce I guess, and then two salads with Italian dressing? That sound good?" He waited for Lance's small nod of approval against his neck.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "But I don't want you getting up, either. You're warm and you're the whole reason I'm comfy."

"Well," Shiro said in a soft chuckle, "someone has to do it, Lance. You just lay here, alright?"

He leaned down, pressed a kiss to Lance's head, and then slipped out of Lance's hold -- with a bit of trouble from his clinging boyfriend, if Shiro had to say so himself. He slid from the blankets and off of the bed, made his way to the phone that was left somewhere on the floor for some reason, and dialed in the key for room service. Shiro ordered, looking to Lance every so often to make sure he wasn't forgetting something. He added in a few things they hadn't mentioned -- two bottles of wine, a small bottle of whisky, and then a plate of brownies they could share after they were done eating. When Shiro hung up, he turned and promised Lance there would be more desserts and more drinks to come, and then made his way back into their previous snuggle.

"There," he said with a nod, pressing close to Lance. "It'll take them about thirty minutes I guess to get everything together -- the brownies are probably going to take the longest. I'll be quick when I grab our food, so you won't have to suffer my awful absence for too long. That all sound good to you, Prince Charming?"

"No," Lance mumbled. "Sounds horrible. Don't ever move away from me again. But I do like being called a prince," he added playfully, leaning up and pecking Shiro's cheek again. He had, once more, tangled himself up with Shiro, lying on Shiro with their chests together, his cold hands wandering under Shiro's shirt, beginning to run along his scars again as he buried his face in Shiro's chest.

Shiro gave a soft laugh, laying his head back and closing his eyes -- just letting himself feel the touch of Lance's fingers as they dragged along his skin. His own hand had been wrapped around Lance, rubbing small circles about his back and tracing up the curve of his spine. Shiro suddenly, and with a blush of embarrassment, wished he could reach his arm under Lance's shirt, too. To feel the warmth of his smooth, freckled skin. To feel the contact on his fingers. It was dumb, and he couldn't quite stretch that far from how he was laying, but Shiro wished it nonetheless.

"You do?" he asked, his voice laced with a content sounding tiredness. Lance's hand brushed over a sensitive spot on his side, and Shiro smiled, biting back an impulsive giggle at the accidental tickle. He hoped Lance wouldn't notice, and continued. "Well, I guess I'll just have to keep calling you that, your highness. Whatever you want, right?"

"Yes," Lance said decisively as he moved closer. "Whatever I want."

He closed his eyes, nestled into his neck as he continued running his fingers through his hair. He was beautiful. Shiro was truly handsome and he wanted to show him his love, so he continued to kiss his neck and wander his fingers along Shiro's form.

Though, soon enough, the door was knocked on and Lance had to roll off of Shiro to let him leave- no matter how much he hated being separated. He settled into the warm spot that had once been Shiro's once the other had gotten up, though, his face buried in the pillow.

Shiro, missing Lance as well, made his way to the door and greeted the room service man with a dazed smile, still thinking of Lance's hands on his stomach and his chest. He was handed two great, lidded trays he precariously balanced upon each hand, and then was given a strange glance from the man in the doorway, his eyes traveling down to Shiro's bare legs with a look of question. Shiro promptly apologized, asked the man to close the door behind him, and turned around -- his face red. The door closed with the thump, and Shiro made his slow way back to the bedroom.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his foot, and then graciously set the two gigantic trays down upon the desk beside the door. Shiro lifted both of the silver lids from their platters. One of them carried the two sandwiches, two wine glasses, and two whisky glasses, and then the other carried the plate of brownies and the alcohol. Shiro picked up the sandwich plates, and brought them over, handing the one that smelt like hot sauce to Lance before digging into his own.

"So, wine or whiskey first? Or are we still too hungover to drink?" Shiro asked past a mouthful of BLT. It was great -- Goddammit, everything in that part of town was great. The bread was toasted to the perfect crunch. The bacon was the best sort of smoky tasting. The tomatoes and the lettuce were fresh and juicy against the sharp crispness of the rest of the sandwich. It needed a drink to go along with it -- water would be nice, but whiskey sounded nice, even if he had drank away his head only the night before.

"Whiskey," Lance answered. "We drink the whiskey and we finish it off with wine to feel fancy." He sat up a little, taking a bite into his sandwich and letting out a soft, happy noise. He hadn't had anything spicy in a while and it tasted really good. Shiro was sweet. "Fuck it, if we're still too hungover. I don't care. We should have more- we'll just be hungover again tomorrow. No harm in that, right?"

"Hell yeah," Shiro said, setting his sandwich down on the plate, and standing up to pour two glasses of whiskey. "Now you're fuckin' talking."

He brought the glasses and the whole bottle over, set his own glass down on his plate beside his BLT, and then handed Lance his. Shiro dropped the bottle at the edge of the bed for refills, and then he told Lance he was going to get them some water as well -- so the alcohol didn't completely destroy them. He left to go do so, returning with two water bottles he found in the fridge, and then sat down to finish his sandwich and his drink. He was already half way done with his BLT, and it only took two sips from that small, fancy glass before he needed a refill. Shiro poured himself another drink, and decided to add onto Lance's glass as well.

"Drink you water, too," he said in a hum, taking one of the last bites of his lunch. "We can get tipsy but... maybe not as hammered as last night." Shiro leaned forward, and gave a mischievous cock of his head. "That way, if we decided to... you know again... we get to remember every second, right?"

"Shut up," Lance mumbled before draining the rest of his glass. "I swear to god that if you mention it again I'll kill you."

He finished his sandwich before Shiro did and smiled slightly, pouring himself another glass and beginning to take a few sips, closing his eyes. He liked how the alcohol burned. He liked the way that it made him feel light and his skin tingled. He loved getting drunk and he was glad that he was getting drunk with Shiro. Hell, the day hadn't even been that stressful and he felt like they'd both earned a drink by the bottle. Or two. And, after another couple of glasses and a few sips of water, he was on the border between tipsy and drunk- leaning a little more heavily toward the latter.

"Aw, why," Shiro said in a drawl, taking the last delicious bite of his sandwich. He pushed the plate from his lap and onto the floor, and scooted forward so he could be closer to Lance. He cocked his head again, raising one brow, and jutting out his lower lip in a sarcastic sort of pout. "Embarrassed over sleeping with that dirty old Takashi Shirogane? Am I that low to you, officer McClain?"

"What did I just say, Shiro?" he asked, looking up at him and 'dangerously' wielding his butterknife. "And yeah, I'm absolutely humiliated. I slept with my own boyfriend- it'll be a sexual blunder that I'll never forgive myself for," he said as he leant back in the bed, lying on Shiro's bicep. "And you can call me sir, thank you very much," he added, his voice a little slurred. Fucking alcohol. It was making him grin and giggle, even when he was trying to be serious. Mock serious, sure, but the laughing took away from the desired effect.

Shiro leaned forward so the tip of Lance's terrifying weapon poked into his cheek. "Oh dear," he said in a flat sort of way, snorting a little. "You've pulled a butterknife out on me. My one true weakness..."

He pulled away from the knife, bringing his hand up to run it through Lance's hair some, brushing it back from his forehead. "Please, sir," he murmured, the sir drawn out in a long, purring drawl. "Have mercy on me. I'll do anything..."

Lance moved the knife away from where it had been, pressing the tip of blunt blade to Shiro's forehead.

"Blegh," he said without as much enthusiasm intended. "I just killed you. That was the noise of... of the- the knife. That killed you. That I killed you with. You're dead now," he said, before dropping the knife. He took his shirt, pulling Shiro down. It looked like he was about to kiss him- only to stop short. His eyes flickered to the slight dent that the knife had left in his forehead (that would only last a couple of seconds before fading)- and immediately burst into tears.

The rest of the alcohol was beginning to affect him. Tears were spilling down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Shiro's neck. He began wailing, gripping onto Shiro like his life depended on it.

"I'm sorry!" he whined loudly. "I'm sorry! I didn't want- I didn't mean to kill you! You can't be dead!"

He held him tighter, pressing into his neck, still letting out choked sobs. "I didn't want to kill you! I love you! Tell me you're okay, Shiro! Forgive me- s-sorry-!" he whimpered, wiping his eyes and still sobbing. God, where had this come from? He'd gone from being perfectly fine and joking to crying within a few seconds.

Shiro held onto Lance, a bit frozen as he listened to Lance's drunken, sorrowful wails. He lifted a hand and rubbed at Lance's back, gently shushing him quiet as he thought of what to do. It suddenly occured to him just how drunk Lance had gotten, and then how sober Shiro had been in comparison. He'd been much more tolerant to the stuff, he supposed. Shiro hugged Lance a little tighter, lifting one of his hands to Lance's face, which was still pressed into his own neck.

He cupped his hand about Lance's cheek, wiped at some of those tears with his thumb, and then slowly tilted up head upwards so he could look Lance in those tearful eyes. The bright blue glimmered up at him, the tears causing them to sparkle beautifully in the light, the drunkenness causing them to mist and swirl with a deep, suddenly spurred emotion. Shiro furrowed his brow at him, concerned, and spoke. His voice was quiet and gentle -- soft. Like how he liked to be spoken to when he was emotional and hammered.

"Hey, hey, Lance. It's okay," he murmured, wiping away at more of Lance's tears. "I'm alright. You didn't kill me. It was all pretend, love. See?" Shiro, slowly, pulled his hand from Lance's face to point at his head. "No marks. No blood."

Lance still cried, and Shiro was running out of ideas. He didn't know how to comfort a sober person, let alone a completely wasted one. Swallowing hard, Shiro pulled Lance forward, delicately placing Lance's head on his chest. Over his heart. "Shhh," he whispered. "Listen. My hearts still beating. Listen. I'm okay. I'm still alive, sweetheart."

Lance, listening to Shiro's heartbeat, was relaxed within a minute. And then, just to add to it, was asleep only a moment later. The dull thrumming of Shiro's heart in his chest had been a sweet rhythm and it had soothed him so easily that Lance, exhausted from his burst of emotions and from the walk earlier, hadn't even been awake another thirty seconds after the tears had stopped.

Like that, he was better. He was content. He was dreaming of cuddling Shiro and playing with Blue and living in the quaint bookstore that he'd dreamed of for years.


	24. A Lecture

Only a few minutes after Lance fell asleep, the soft sound of a keycard slotting into the lock, the buzz to say that the room had been unlocked, and the opening of the door interrupted the silence. Heavy footsteps followed and, after only a moment, Lotor came barging into the bedroom where the two of them lay.

His face was contorted with anger, his teeth grit and his eyes frenzied. He had just found out the news about Kolivan. That wasn't the reason he was annoyed at Shiro- not solely, anyway. It was the nerve that Shiro had to hold out on such information for days after they had saved his life. It was the idea that Allura hadn't told him for hours after she had found out. It was the thought that someone he had made a truce with had murdered one of their most respected and bravest members. The idea that he wasn't able to physically harm Shiro for it, to punch him no matter how badly he wanted to, that made his blood boil in his veins.

"Takashi!" His malicious voice came, booming and causing the sleeping male to flinch. "You'll never fucking guess what Allura just told me!"

Not only had the loudness disturbed Lance, but his dream soured for a moment. His mind filled with worryingly negative, toxic thoughts before the shouts were over and he could feel Shiro's fingers combing through his hair. His soft, fearful whimpers died away and he snuggled close. The comfort of Shiro's touch fought off all potential for a nightmare that his mind was so desperate to create.

Lotor's eyes flickered from Shiro to the male in his arms, and his anger faded for a moment as confusion took it's place, awaiting an explanation.

Shiro, along with Lance, jumped at the abruptness of Lotor's arrival, and at the sharp malice of his tone. His muscles had seized and his head had flicked upwards, catching sight of the seething Lotor at his bedroom door. Shiro flicked his eyes down to Lance again, a spurring of fear growing and sparkling in his stomach.

"Lotor?" he spluttered in a very hushed sort of exclamation, gritting his teeth a little when he flicked his head back up again. "What the fuck are you doing in here? What the hell is wrong with you? Busting in like that? Keep your fucking voice down."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he shouted, though his voice was a little less loud than before. "What the fuck do you think I'm doing in here-" he noticed Lance's flinching and checked his tone, speaking only a little above a normal volume. "Allura told me."

Shiro gave a dark scowl, wanting nothing more but to stand up and throw a great punch against Lotor's stupidly perfect cheek bone. He couldn't though -- he couldn't do anything, even raise his own voice. Lance laid heavy against him, sleeping deeply. Dreaming. Finally resting. He couldn't disturb him. He wouldn't. And if Lotor had the audacity to do so himself, then Shiro could result to breaking every bone in that mans awful body.

"Last time I fucking checked it's rude to just burst into someones room without knocking," Shiro snapped in a seething tone. A seething, quiet tone. "Listen, shithead, I already told Allura everything. I don't need to explain myself to you too. Piss off."

Lotor grit his teeth.

"I think that I deserve something!" he snapped. "You told Allura everything, but I was the one in charge of supervising the Blades! I'm the one who's going to get shit for Kolivan's death! I'm the one that he put his trust in to protect him from the Galran mafia doing exactly as they did," he hissed out, voice still laced with malice. "I don't want you to explain yourself, I just want to make it perfectly-fucking-clear that what you did will affect more than just your conscience and our numbers."

He moved back a little, curling and uncurling his first, muttering to himself a little to try to relax. It wasn't working. "God, I wish I'd never fucking made a truce with you because god knows how badly I want to punch you."

"I told Allura everything because she was the only one who even fucking mentioned him," Shiro said, his eyes narrowed to slits. "How was I supposed to know you guys were so connected to the Blades? Zarkon told me he was just one some fucking task force -- I didn't even know you cared about him. Why don't you take a second to actually think about-"

"Why don't you take a second to actually fucking listen to other people?! You heard what Allura said, but you were too caught up in your own temper tantrum about our history to care about what I said!" He moved over, his hands curled into fists and his nails digging into the palm of his hand. "You only care about yourself and your perspective on everything that goes on! You're selfish beyond reason, Shiro. We offer to save your lives and relocate you, paying off everything out of pocket, and all that you can focus on is that my actions had consequences, Allura was rude to you, all the petty little things that cloud your judgement. One day, Lance will leave you because of it."

He moved back, a little blood dripping through a gap between his fingers. "Sleep well," he spat, not waiting for a response as he started to the door.

Shiro was too angry to give a response anyways. His head was too clouded and too loud to clearly think of anything to say. That's what he told himself anyways, as he watched Lotor stalk off. He told himself he just couldn't think of what to say because he was just too full of hatred to think clearly. But Shiro knew deep down why he didn't say anything -- why he let Lotor stomp away and slam the door to his apartment with all his own mighty rage.

Because Lotor was right.

Over and over again did Shiro's mind try to disprove that idea. Over and over again did he come up with ways to shoot Lotor's points down. You had to kill Kolivan, Shiro. You only knew to tell Allura, Shiro. How the hell were you supposed to know Lotor cared so much, Shiro? He ruined your life, Shiro. Lotor ruined your life. Over and over again did those points seem so repetitive and useless. Empty and weak. They were all right points but... they all felt so... little.

Shiro suddenly felt hot. Feverishly so. Desperate for an escape from the sudden waves of intense warmth that crashed about his skin, he eased backwards from Lance's hold, and lowered him down in the bed -- making sure to pile blankets high atop of him to keep him from waking. He stomped his quiet way into the bathroom, shut the door behind him, and went to go lean over the sink. Shiro flicked on the cold water, and splashed some onto his face, leaning back and tilting his head up to let the icy drips slip down his face and down his neck and into his shirt.

Finally, his mind accepted it. Accepted that Lotor was right. About everything -- every little thing. The only person he looked after was himself. The only person he'd ever listen to was himself. He couldn't blame it on Zarkon. He couldn't blame it on Lotor. He couldn't blame it on being tortured. He had always been like that. With Adam. With his parents. With his friends when he ever had any. With Keith.

Shiro was just a bad person.

No, no, no! He had just climbed out of that pit of self loathing. He had just gotten comfortable in his own body again. Shiro gave a deep sigh, and hung his head, squeezing his eyes tight against the hot tears he felt building there. A few got through, though, a warm collection of tears snaking up his downturned head.

Shiro gave an angry huff, and wiped them away, shaking his head. He couldn't cry. He didn't deserve to. He didn't have the right to cry. He was a piece of shit who deserved no sympathy. Lotor knew it. Allura knew it. And soon Lance would know it.

And then Lance would leave.

And yet, now he came.

The bathroom door opened slowly. He hadn't been supposed to wake up, but he stood there in the doorway. "Shiro...?" he asked, his voice slow and drawled out as he watched him. "You look... scared... Shiro," he mumbled. "Sad." He walked in after him, taking Shiro's hand gently. "What... What's wrong?" he mumbled softly. He pressed his face into his chest when he had Shiro close enough. He'd come to get a drink, assuming that Shiro was in the kitchen or that something had happened. He'd assumed that if Shiro was peeing, he would have locked the door, so he had just walked inside.

He wanted to comfort Shiro. Shiro was his boyfriend and he loved him and he didn't like seeing that longing sadness in his beautiful eyes.

Shiro pulled one of his hands away to wipe away some more of his tears. "It's nothing," he said quietly. "You don't have to... you shouldn't have to worry about me. Just... you should go back to sleep, okay?"

Shiro sniffled, blinking back the rest of his sorrow. He put his hands on Lance's shoulders, and stepped away from him, not really feeling like he deserved his comfort. Shiro turned his head downwards, frowning deeply. "I'll get you some water. Just go back to bed, okay? I'll... be there in a second..."

Lance whimpered a little and took his hand. "Shiro," he said softly, tugging his hand a little to get his attention again. "Don't... Don't do that," he said softly. "I can- Shiro, I have like..." his brow furrowed and he mumbled a few numbers and names under his breath, "like a fuckton of siblings, okay? I know what it's like to push someone away." He moved close again, holding tighter to his hand.

He wrapped his arms tightly around him. "But I love you, Shiro. You mean... fuck, Shiro, you mean like- a fuckton to me... I want you to let me worry. I worry, let me worry." He kissed his hand softly, taking a step back and stumbling a little. "I-I'm going to go back to bed. I'm tired. I- I'm really tired. You promised me some water so I'll be waiting." He leant up and managed to press an uncoordinated kiss to Shiro's cheek. "Come back soon. I don't like sleeping without you."

Shiro watched Lance leave. He watched Lance walk away and leave him in the bathroom. Alone. More tears began to rise but Shiro blinked them away, shaking his head fast as if to shake away the building sobs he felt rise up in his chest. He would not cry. He didn't deserve to.

Shiro went into the kitchen, grabbed Lance another bottle of water. He closed the door to the refrigerator, and stood there for a few moments, wondering if he could handle going back to Lance. After a few moments of thinking, he told himself he'd wait until lance fell asleep, and then slip away to be for a bit to try and ease that impossibly painful numbness he felt hang heavy in his system.

He made his way back into the room, and handed the sleepy Lance his water before settling down in his spot against the mattress. He laid there for a moment or so, watching Lance take a few sips from his water. What happened next was strange -- he almost didn't even realize what had been happening until it had. The words just tumbled from his lips... he couldn't stop them.

"Why do you love me?" he asked, knowing just how awful he was for asking such a question to such a drunk man. "Lotor and Allura are right about me. My parents and Zarkon and Sendak were all right too. I'm weak and cowardly and selfish and careless unless it's me I've got to care about. Even then I suck at it. How could I deserve you at all? Why do you love me?"

"Shiro," Lance said softly. "Lie down. Rest your head on my lap."

He did so. Slowly, of course, with protest in his muscles and his mind. But he did so.

Lance waited for Shiro's head to be settled on his lap before beginning to coax his fingers through his hair.

"Shiro, I love you because you're sweet. You had to be strong to live that life but now you're allowed to be weak. You're brave and selfless and so careful, because if you weren't, you wouldn't have saved my life. You wouldn't have risked your own life when Sendak asked where I was. You wouldn't have put me first. You wouldn't be willing to kill Lotor if anything happened to me."

He settled one hand on Shiro's shoulder, rubbing small circles on his skin while still running his fingers through his soft hair with his other hand. "You're good at looking after yourself. You're good at looking after me..." he smiled a little, his warm gaze on Shiro's face, even if he couldn't see it properly from how Shiro was lying. "I don't know how I deserve you, Shiro. You're an amazing boyfriend. I love you for so, so many different reasons. I love you."

Shiro nodded, not really sure if he could believe anything or not. There were only a few things he had been completely sure of...He was sure that the fingers running about his hair and his scalp felt heavenly. He was sure that Lance's voice had been oh-so soothing to hear. He was sure that Lance's lap was warm, and felt like a nice place to cry.

He was completely sure about what he was going to say back.

"I love you too," Shiro murmured earnestly, his throat dry and choked up.

Shiro turned his head a little, looking up at Lance through the corners of his eyes. "Hey Lance?" he asked quietly, waiting for a soft nod before continuing on with his desperate question. "Do you... do you think I'd be an awful person if I started to cry?"

"No, no, definitely not... I think that you would be a normal person. You should cry, Shiro. And don't worry, nobody needs to know that you cried." He stopped playing with Shiro's hair now, turning his gaze to Shiro and meeting his eyes. "You're the strongest person I know, Shiro, so feel free to cry. It won't make you any different."

He cupped his cheeks, leaning in and gently pressing his lips to Shiro's. "I love you. Nothing could ever make you a bad person, Shiro. Nothing."

Shiro nodded, and turned his head back around. Only around a half a moment had passed before the tears had come back. Two more moments passed and Shiro was sobbing, his one hand holding tight onto Lance's as he tried to force all of that awfulness from his system out with gasps and whimpers and so many tears. He cried for a while, listening to Lance's voice and feeling Lance's hand. It felt like the first night their had slept together -- that night that felt so, so long ago. The one where Lance had first caught him in his nightmare. Like that night, time seemed stretched. His tears and his sobs felt endless. The air about him felt cold and alone. Lance beside him and lance holding him felt warm... felt like salvation...

He basically cried himself to sleep, he supposed, heavy sobs ironing out into shaky breaths and shaky breaths ironing out into long, even sighs -- his body too tired to go on. Shiro fell asleep in Lance's arms, somehow ending up laying down against his chest even though he had started pressed against Lance's warm, comforting lap. He fell into a dreary, dreamless slumber, everything relaxing and melting against Lance -- his last thoughts on Lance's words..

I love you. Nothing could ever make you a bad person, Shiro.

Nothing.

And Lance fell asleep shortly after, in an awkward, lying and sitting up position.

In the morning, though, Shiro wasn't on his lap. Shiro was in his arms. Lance's eyes opened to the sunlight and another hangover- not as bad this time, thanks to his drinking water last night, and held Shiro in his arms. The male was sleeping still, with dried tears around his eyes. Offering up a small smile, Lance leant down and pressed his lips to the top of Shiro's head, running his fingers through his hair. The silence and the coolness of the room meant that his hangover wasn't overpowering just yet. Hell, he was able to run his fingers through Shiro's hair for at least fifteen minutes before dashing to the bathroom to vomit the alcoholic contents of his stomach. And he swore then, as he had done every other time, that he'd never get so drunk again.

And he knew that he would.

He finally returned to the bedroom almost ten minutes later, snatching the bottle of water and draining it as he tried to get the taste out of his mouth, setting the nearly-empty bottle of water down on the bedside table to look at Shiro. He knelt on the edge of the bed. He looked so relaxed when he slept. Entirely at peace. Lance never saw him so relaxed during the day. Well, never was a strong word. He'd been relaxed in the bath and he'd seen him this relaxed while he was drunk the day before, but he wasn't quite as relaxed as this. Lance settled down into bed beside him again, ignoring the burning of his throat from the vomit and the queasiness still pestering his unsettled stomach. Instead, he just leant in and pressed another soft kiss to Shiro's forehead.

Shiro woke up a good fifteen minutes after Lance had. He woke up slowly, eyes taking a moment to crack open, the lashes matted with dried tears and his eyelids heavy from strain. The sleep he had been in was a deep one -- a kind of deeper sleep he hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing in a long, long while. Shiro didn't know how long he had slept, or how comfortable he had been, but he did know for certain that he had rested well.

He stretched his arms our, feeling for Lance's warmth, but only clutching onto the cool fabric of the bed. Shiro pushed up with his elbows, his head feeling heavy on his neck as he leaned up a little, in dazed search for Lance. Shiro found him kneeling up on the side of the bed, blurry without his glasses and with the glaze of heavy slumber. Shiro swallowed hard, tasting the acrid breath of sleep against his tongue and throat, and closed his eyes. He hung his head backwards, and sighed a little.

"Lance..." he slurred, sliding back down so he laid flat against the bed. Shiro reached up a hand to rub at his eyes, feeling stiff, raw skin about his cheeks. "How... how are you feeling?" Lance looked down at him and leant in, pressing a kiss to the top of Shiro's head.

"I'm... I'm good. A little hungover, but I'm good," he said in a quiet voice, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Shiro's lips. He just wanted to kiss Shiro. He looked so perfect like this, while he was so tired, and he wanted to make it especially clear, after last night, that he loved him.

"How are you?" he asked shortly, sitting up again and gently bringing Shiro to sit up, cupping his cheek delicately to keep Shiro's focus on himself. "Feeling better today?"

He nodded slowly, leaning in to lay his head against Lance's shoulder, too drowsy to hold it up any longer. "I guess," he muttered. "Kinda... sluggish..."

Shiro closed his eyes, swallowing again. "How long was I... were we asleep?" he asked, leaning more of his body weight onto Lance's. He almost felt as though he could just collapse, the power that sleep had upon him was too strong. The tiredness was pulling at his limbs and his mind, calling him back to the sheets and the covers and pillows. "What time is it?"

"Uhh..." Lance checked his phone. "Quarter-past eleven. Why? You didn't have anything planned, did you?" he asked as he kissed the top of Shiro's head again, smiling a little at the closeness, not minding Shiro's tiredness and feeble conversation.

He wondered if anyone had tried to check in. He took the box of painkillers and the bottle of water, holding it out for Shiro. "You need to take the painkillers today. You've already forgotten them too many times."

Shiro gave a shrug. "I just feel like I've been asleep for forever," he murmured, leaning off of Lance's shoulder and groping a tired hand up to take the painkillers. He shook three out, popped them into his mouth, and used the water to promptly swallow them back. Shiro coughed, lifted a hand to rub at his eyes again, and looked up at Lance. He furrowed his brow a little, narrowing his puffy, tired eyes. "How much do you remember from last night? You were kinda hammered."

"I think that I cried," he said as he leant on Shiro, taking ahold of his hand. "And I think that you cried. I remember saying sorry and I remember telling you I love you." He held tighter to Shiro and pressed into his neck. "Sorry about that. The, uhh, crying thing. Whatever made me cry."

He then sat up a little and reached for the room service menu. "Why? Don't you remember? I don't think you were as drunk as I was..."

Shiro flicked his eyes down to the bed. "Oh, yeah — I remember everything. I didn't drink as much, and I kinda have more tolerance than you," he admitted with a nervous laugh. "I just... I just kinda hoped you wouldn't remember? Which is shitty..." A bit of that feeling from the night before came creeping back. Shiro tried to shove it away. "But I was... kinda pathetic..."

He gave a sigh, and took another sip of water, hoping to wash away the taste of his own breath that coated his mouth and tongue. Shiro swallowed it back hard, and leaned forward onto Lance again. He was waking up a little, of course, but Lance felt too comfortable to resist...

"Lotor showed up — you had passed out for a bit. He was pissed. Told me off about... everything," Shiro explained quietly, lifting a hand and letting his fingers trail about the hem of Lance's shirt. "I kinda broke down after he left. Of course I was a little tipsy too, but, uh, what he said kinda hurt, I guess. Because it was all pretty much right." Shiro's hand stopped, and he closed his eyes, sighing a little.

"It doesn't matter though," he said before Lance could answer. "Whatever."

Lance was awkwardly silent after being interrupted, turning his gaze to the floor and shrugging a little. "Whatever," he just agreed, leaning over to press a kiss to Shiro's cheek. "I'll talk to him about it, though. Or I'll get Allura to."

He soon wriggled out of bed, away from Shiro, grimacing a little at how he felt. He had sobered up a little, enough to be aware of how disgusting he felt. He felt really sticky- he was going to have to shower again.

"I'm gonna go shower," he said as he began to the bathroom. "We can ask to go to the cafe afterwards, so get dressed, alright?"

Shiro thought about having to see Lotor, and cringed a little, but kept silent as Lance turned away. If he saw Lotor down there... he didn't know what he'd do... what he'd feel. Angry for making him cry? Embarrassed because it was so incredibly obvious he had been crying? Guilty for not apologizing for everything? Would he apologize? Or would he break the truce and then break Lotor's nose?

Well, that would just prove him right.

Shiro, tiredly, slipped out of bed. He made his slow, somber way to his suitcase, and changed into a pair of grey joggers, and a larger, baggier pullover — the sleeve getting cut off with his knife before he'd slipped into it. The pullover had a small, lion's head decal just over the heart — its head tilted and its eyes calm. He always had an unnatural liking to the thing... Shiro didn't quite know why.

He then leaned back on the bed, still wanting nothing more than to curl up beneath those warm covers and slip back into his alluring slumber. But no, Lance wanted breakfast. And Shiro...

Shiro had to do something.

When Lance had come back from the bathroom, Shiro spoke up without thinking, a hand on the back of his neck. "Don't talk to Lotor. Or Allura," he said quietly. "I... I should go talk to them instead."

 

Lance looked at him, frowning a little but nodding. "Yeah, course, right," he said as he began getting dressed, just some blue jeans and a pastel blue shirt. He turned his attention to Shiro again, holding out his hand. "We should go as soona s we can, okay? I really want to spend time with you-" he opened the bedroom door, hearing loud yapping and barking as the dog came bounding toward them.

She took Lance out with one fatal jump, tackling him and beginning to smother him with kisses. When she got him off, Blue turned her attention to Shiro to begin barking. As if Lance wasn't already dealing with an agonising hangover, he was now enduring all of her yapping.

Lance got to his feet and brushed her fur from him, moving to Shiro so he could pull Blue off of him, shushing her as he got her breakfast ready, preparing Black's as well when she began to meow. It was the best way to shut them both up.

Shiro watched Lance feed the two rowdy pets, a hand lifted to his shoulder, rubbing against it a bit nervously. He stayed silent as Lance set down the two bowls of pet food, and then as Lance lead him to the door. Shiro slipped on his shoes, and opened the door, holding it wide for Lance and then shutting it behind him as he wandered out. He locked the door behind him, remembering how easily Lotor had gotten in the night before with a shudder.

They made their way down the hall, and into the elevator, Shiro's mind turning about as he thought of what he could say — how he could act in the presence of the man who had made him cry. Shiro blushed at the thought, scrunching up his nose a little in a cringe.

The elevator opened, and the two stepped out. Shiro sported Lotor and Allura together in their normal seats right away. He promptly ducked, hoping they wouldn't look his way. Shiro took a hold of Lance's arm, and stood behind him, peeking over his shoulder with a nervous sparkle in his eyes.

"Let's eat, yeah?" he asked, tugging Lance's shirt in the complete opposite direction of the two silver haired headaches. "I'm, uh, real hungry..."

"Yeah," Lance nodded, taking Shiro's hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Let's go eat. We can deal with it a little later," he said softly, leaning up and pecking his cheek before they settled into a seat.

He flicked through the menu, choosing another cup of hot chocolate. He then chose a cooked breakfast with eggs, bacon and toast. Then he passed the menu to Shiro, moving a little closer to him and leaning against his arm, thankful to be sitting on the side with his human arm so that he had something to laean again- instead of just awkwardly lying on his chest.

He glanced over at the two they were avoiding and locked eyes with Allura- who just looked away. He'd at least expected her to wave at him. It kinda hurt to see her refusing to even speak to him. Especially when what had happened wasn't even his fault.

It wasn't Shiro's fault, either.

Shiro just wanted something to drink, really. His previous plea for breakfast was nothing but a lie to distract himself. He peered down at the menu, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The skin was near breaking again, the way he worked it mercilessly between his molars, but he didn't care. Pain was a distaction, as was the warm iron blood that would bead about the torn flesh of his mouth.

A waiter approached them -- not the same girl from the day before, but an older man with an older face. Shiro let Lance go first, still running his eyes over the menu, squinted and close without the aid of his glasses or his contacts. He gave a soft sigh when his own turn came around, and set the menu down on the table. Shiro shrugged.

"What are your morning drinks? Like coffees and stuff?" he asked, stalling. "Anything special?"

 

"Today's breakfast special is the caffe macchiato. Comes with a free cookie on the side," the waiter said with a sweet chipperness.

Shiro looked over to Lance, and shrugged again. "Yeah, I'll, uh, have that? Lots of fuc-... lots of caffeine, please."

The waiter nodded, took their menus, and left.

Lance glanced at Shiro.

"Smooth," he muttered with a smile, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Just coffee? Are you feeling alright? You- You don't look too good, Shiro. Are you sure that coffee is a good idea in the first place?" he asked, suddenly seeming incredibly worried for Shiro. He looked so nervous- it was worrying. He didn't like seeing Shiro in such a state. Shiro was never usually like this.

He pulled back a little to look at him properly.

"Is this all because of what Lotor said?" he asked, his tone a little more stern than usual- with an edge to it.

Shiro opened his mouth and narrowed his eyes a little to tell Lance that he'd been just fine — but the look of Lance's eyes told him any attempt to push him away would be futile. His features were set and his look gave the impression that he wouldn't be budging. Shiro casted his eyes to the side, ducked his head a little, and continued to gnaw on the inside of his cheek.

"I- I dunno. Yeah. Probably," he admitted bitterly. "It's just... I have to go talk to him about it. It's the right thing to do. Even though he was right about everything and pretty much won the entire, uh, argument? If you could even call it that... I don't know. The thought of talking to him is just like... giving me fucking hives or something."

Lance nodded. His eyes settled on the male across the room and narrowed.

"I'll deal with it, alright? Leave it at that. Don't think of it again."

And that was that. He wasn't going to bring it up further.

He'd deal with the Lotor situation, and from the look in his eyes, it wasn't debatable.

Then their food arrived, and he began to make his way through his meal. His stomach was still turning from the alcohol but he needed to eat, so he ignored it as best as he could.

Shiro sipped on his warm coffee, his eyes focused fully on the table. It would be pointless to argue — Shiro could feel Lance's determination in the echo of his previous promise — but the idea of sending Lance to take care of his problems just confused and conflicted Shiro even further. He tried to melt away the tension of his stomach with the hot, bittersweet coffee he washed down his throat and his chest. He waited a while, at least until Lance had been halfway finished with his own plate, before saying anything.

"Don't make it seem like I sent you after him," Shiro muttered, draining the last gulp of his coffee. "I don't want to start anything. And I don't want him to think I can't talk to him. Even though... I kinda can't... I just don't want him to know I can't. Just pretend I don't know or something, okay? Please?" Lance looked up at him and pecked his lips.

"Trust me, Shiro. I'm a big brother, I know what I'm doing," he reassured him with a smile, before finishing his plate. He leant back in his seat, holding his hot chocolate with both hands, and began to drain the glass. He was already working through a script in his head.

His main goal was for Lotor to apologise to Shiro. Other achievements would be getting him to show genuine remorse for how he had acted. Not that it was Lance's first time doing something like this- as he had said, he was a big brother. He helped when his siblings were in trouble or being bullied at school.

Even if Lotor had almost a foot on him and was more muscular and more adept when it came to any kind of contact, Lance knew that he was going to successfully achieve his goals.

He leant against Shiro, glancing up at him. "I'll talk to him whenever I next get a chance to. I think Allura wants to pull you aside- she keeps glancing over here- so I'll talk to him then."

Shiro's eyes widened, and he dared a glance Allura's way. She hadn't been looking — and instead spoke to Lotor, who had his own head turned down towards an open newspaper. He turned back to Lance, frowning. "What the hell would she want to talk about?" he muttered, brow furrowed. The waiter came by, scooping up the empty plate and Shiro's glass and bidding them good day before he wandered back off again. Shiro waited until he was gone again to continue on talking.

"Should I go over to her? Or wait for her to approach me? Shit, why are these two assholes getting so under my skin," the last bit was a frustrated growl, and another look to Allura. That time, he caught her watchful eye — narrowing his own at her when she averted her swift watch. "Fuck. You're right. She is looking at me."

Lance just stood and took Shiro's hand.

"No need to choose," he said, noting how the other two stood when they did, both groups approaching the door at a similar, steady pace. When Lance got to the doorway, he stopped, waiting for the other two to approach.

As predicted, Allura focused on Shiro.

"We need to talk," she said softly, her voice firm yet patient and polite. "In private, about yesterday. Our talk has been pestering me since, but now I need to get it off of my chest once and for all and confront you directly."

Shiro kept his eyes on the floor, a good shade of red dusting up about his cheeks. "Alright," he said, uncomfortably aware of Lotor's state upon him. "Alright, yeah. Let's, uh, go somewhere private then."

He leaned in towards Lance's ear. "Please don't make a scene," he whispered in nothing more than a breath of sound before pressing a soft kiss against his temple. "Love you." That second bit was louder as he leaned away, only letting his eyes gliss over the watchful Lotor for a second before focusing his attention on Allura. He nodded off towards the elevators. He thought about offering a hand, but figured against it.

"Let's go, P-" Shiro froze. Fuck. He shook his head and started over. "Let's go, Allura."

She had tensed a little before nodding, gritting her teeth as she turned. She began leading him away, going to the elevator. She glanced to Lotor as the doors closed, Lance waving at Shiro and giving him a small, reassuring nod- as if to say "don't worry, I've got this", before waving a little, and the doors closed.

And, finally, Lance was alone with Lotor. He looked up at the taller male, arms folding over his chest.

"And you," he said sternly, now that Allura and Shiro had left. "We need to talk, too. Urgently."

He let Lotor lead the way to somewhere private- he knew where everything was, after all- and they finally ended up in a small closet. It was the closest private space that they could get to.

Lotor looked better today than he had yesterday. He'd not slept the night before, so he had been able to come to breakfast with makeup and with proper dress. Today he wore a violet shirt with a leather jacket and black jeans. His eyeliner was thicker than normal and he had a nude lipstick, no eyeshadow. His highlight was significantly less vivid than usual and his contour was sharper.

Lance reminded himself to focus. He couldn't get distracted by Lotor's good looks now of all times! So, instead, he decided he was going to focus on the matter at hand.

"Look," he began, his tone sharp and accusational. Lotor could immediately sense that he was in trouble- though Lance didn't seem overly intimidating. "I don't know what happened between you and Shiro last night, but I-"

"Lance, that isn't your place," Lotor said simply, intending on cutting this short there and then. Lance wasn't involved, it wasn't his place. It was an issue that involved everyone but Lance.

But Lance wasn't having it.

"No, you don't fucking tell me what my place is!" He snapped, having not intended on having such a malicious tone, but it happened. And it seemed to do what it was supposed to. Lotor's eyes widened a little and he opened his mouth as if to argue- before reconsidering. Lance continued.

"Shiro is my boyfriend! You barge into our hotel room while I'm asleep and you degrade him, insulting him for a job that he had no choice but to complete! I don't care how it affected you. I don't care how much it's fucked up your position. A man has lost his life because of Zarkon, not because of Shiro. The last thing that I want you doing is blaming my boyfriend and insulting him! The last thing I want you doing is assuming that just because it's rough for you, it can't be difficult for anyone else!"

A few moments of silence passed. Lance's words hung heavy in the air. Lotor just stared at him, suddenly apathetic.

"Don't mention my father's name around me," he said simply, but he gave no other comments to the rest of Lance's malicious words. Lance grit his teeth.

"Don't abuse my boyfriend and we have a deal," he spat, moving back a little. "And if I hear one more fucking thing that you've done, I won't be as patient."

Lotor nodded. Lance turned and opened the door to the cupboard. "I'm glad we've reached an understanding. I expect you to apologise to him before this evening. He may not be too affected by what you said, but I'll be damned if I let anyone get away with that kind of shit. Got it?"

Lotor just nodded again, staying dead still, his eyes reflecting no emotion- this apathetic state being a consequence of Lance simply mentioning his father's name.

Not that Lance cared- it wasn't his place to. He went to the lobby to calm down while he waited for Shiro to return. When the coast was clear, Lotor exited through a staff-only door to smoke in peace; without Allura finding out about his shame cigarette.

Just as Lotor had left the building to smoke, Shiro, two whole stories above, was ushered into a lavish sort of office. It was nice -- walled in by floor to ceiling windows cleaned from fingerprints and smudges into a crystal sort of shimmer. In the middle of the office was a long, sleek desk, made from polished black wood and decorated with modern looking desk-toys. A silver Newton's Cradle there, a dazzling nameplate here -- the whole thing was scattered about with handsome silver and gold. Shiro watched Allura as she moved to go sit at her desk, ignoring the opposite chair out of habit. Shiro stood before her desk, and, without thinking, brought his hands behind his back as though he'd been before Zarkon. It only occured to him how odd he had looked when he noticed Allura's confused features, and he relaxed his posture a little, despite how it made the back of his neck prickle with discomfort. He did not sit down.

"What... uh... what's up?" he asked, suppressing a wince at his dumb phrasing. Shiro looked away from Allura, and focused his attention of the Newton's Cradle. He wanted to reach over touch it, curious -- but he refrained, blinking his eyes a little. He turned back to the Arus Mafia leader, and rose his shoulders a little. "Fair warning: if you yell at me again, I just might cry," he joked with a smirk.

Was it a joke? Fuck if he knew.

"I..." she settled down a little, brushing off her skirt, toying with her fingers in her lap as she figured out what to say. "I wanted to apologise. For yesterday. I understand that what you went through wasn't a choice. It was an order from Zarkon that you couldn't refuse, but I let my emotions distract me. Instead of caring more about Kolivan and how hard it must have been for you to confess to it, I focused on how difficult it would be for me- telling Lotor, telling the rest of the Blades, etcetera."

She took a deep breath, turning her gaze back to Shiro finally. She offered a smile and held out a hand.

"I'm sorry for being so hostile. It was unnecessary and unfair on you. I can promise that I'll try to be more civil when dealing with issues like this in the future."

Shiro's smirk fell away in shock. He cocked his head a little, eyes a little wider than before. It took him a moment or so to come to his senses and take her hand -- but he did so, stepping forward, hesitantly taking a professional hold of her offer of peace. There was a shake, and then the two pulled away, and Shiro stepped back.

"Jeez, Allura," he said quietly, lifting that same hand to rub at the back of his neck. "You didn't have to apologise... the only reason you snapped at me was because I was being an asshole. You... you took the news like a champ. Way better that I would have, I guess."

Shiro sighed a little. Lotor's accusations ran through his mind like a sudden wildfire, as if Allura's earnestness had been the match to start the flames. He brought his hands together, his human fingers running over the cool steel of his prosthetic, trying to find the right words somewhere in the back of his throat.

"If anything, I should be apologising," Shiro muttered weakly, his pride a bit too big for him at that moment. He tried to stuff it away somewhere, shaking his head just a bit. "I'm sorry. For everything. I've been incredibly difficult these past couple days. I have to admit, most of it was out of spite... but it was childish and dumb and I'm just an ass for doing it. It's just... that's how I act around new people, I guess. You're new and I lashed out." Shiro thought for a moment. "You were also with Lotor and that kinda made it worse... not like I can use that as an excuse or anything! Duh. I... I Just... sorry." He had gotten choppy and mumbled around the last few sentences, eyes focused down upon the ground, his hands now wringing one another as he forced each and every word from his reluctant teeth. "I'm sorry, too, Allura."

Allura offered a small smile and pulled her hand back, standing. "I'm glad we could talk this out," she said softly. "Thank you for cooperating. We ought to go back now- I can't leave Lotor alone for too long, he need supervision," she said playfully, taking a jacket as she began back to the door, expecting Shiro to follow her to the elevator.

She may not have shown it, but she greatly appreciated Shiro's response to the situation. The apology meant more to her than she had let on.

Shiro nodded, smiling a little. Instead of following her, he stood where he was a moment, quickly flicking his gaze back to her desk. "One second," he said, holding up a finger.

He turned back around, lifted one of the silver spheres of the Newton's Cradle, and let it drop. There was a satisfying click, and the furthest sphere bounced upwards. Shiro grinned, and watched it a few moments before standing up and turning around. Upon seeing Allura's judging stare, he blushed a little, smile growing a bit more crooked.

"Zarkon had one, too," he admitted, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he made his way forwards toward the doorway. "I always wanted to try it. We can go now."

She smiled, not commenting, and locked the office door once Shiro had left. She walked to the elevator with him and endured an awkwardly silent journey to the bottom floor.

She immediately frowned at Lotor's absence. When Lance pointed out which direction he'd gone in, she left to find him. She already knew that he'd be smoking, so she knew where to look.

Lance smiled as he stood, seeing no strain on Shiro's features as he took his hands. "How was it?" he asked, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "What did she want to talk about?"

Shiro smiled at him, already linking their hands. "It went well," he said quietly, watching Allura walk off. "I think I like her much better now."

He turned to look Lance in the eyes, his grin faltering a bit, his teeth suddenly itching for that spot on his cheek again. "How... how did Lotor go? What did you say? You didn't yell at him or anything, did you?" Lance just smiled.

"It's been dealt with, alright? Just trust me on that."

He wrapped his arms around Shiro's neck, holding him close. He was warm, and nice to cling to.

"Come on, we should go. Let's see if there's a bar around here! Not- Not that I'm going to get drunk again, I just want to know what would be available if I did."

Shiro didn't like Lance's vague answer, but he let himself give a soft chuckle anyways. "I think I'm flagging you, dude," he said, wrapping his arms around the man who clung to him. "If we find a bar, and if I let you go in, only soft drinks and peanuts. No alcohol." Shiro leaned in and kissed along his jaw and his cheek, stopping at his ear. "Understand, officer?" was his soft, husky whisper. Lance looked up at him, catching Shiro's lips in a loving, needy kiss.

"I might do," he said with a playful smile. "But what'll you do if I break a rule, Shirogane?"


	25. Much Needed Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of Wednesday, March 20th 2019, Emma and I finished writing this story in its entirety. The final chapter is chapter 65 (66 including the prior christmas one shot) and will be released on the last Friday of the year with the same weekly schedule of updates.
> 
> It took us approximately nine months to write this full story- which is estimated to be around 510k words when complete. We both really hope that you enjoy reading something that we put so much heart and soul into writing.

As it turned out, there was a bar. Just two streets down, making it about a five minute walk at most. Apparently it was bigger and more popular -- a real riot on Fridays. Shiro had found that out by asking the woman at the desk, who responded decently enough despite the obvious closeness of Lance, who had been all pressed up against him.

Shiro had turned to Lance and told him in a playfully stern voice that it was too early in the morning for drinks, and they should just go back up to their room or something to pass some time. The woman at the desk watched them talk. She watched Shiro laugh when Lance pouted, and watched them joke for a few more moments, only turning away to her paperwork on her desk when they began to kiss again. When Shiro noticed her discomfort, he gave a snarky little chuckle.

"Guess we better get to our room then," he said in a giggled whisper. "We're kinda making a scene, huh?" Lance leant in and pressed his lips to Shiro's again.

"And?" he asked, holding his shirt. "I want to make a scene," he added playfully, before taking Shiro's hand and taking him to the elevators so that they would, as promised, return to their room.

He held Shiro close as soon as they got into the elevator, glad that it was empty as he pulled him into another kiss- that quickly turned into a heated makeout session, thanks to Lance. He was acting a little different to usual- he was more eager, more openly desperate for attention and affection. It was oddly endearing to see him a little less patient.

He finally pulled away when they reached their room, even if only to drag Shiro to their room, grinning happily. He held tight to Shiro's hand, intertwining their fingers, needing closeness- needing even the slightest bits of contact at all times.

Shiro's cheeks had been flushed a hot red from their ride in the elevator, pleasantly surprised at Lance's sudden hold upon him and his own affection. He returned the favor as they made their stumbling way through their apartment room, pulling him close for desperate, intermittent kisses that continued all the way until they were in their bedroom. Shiro toppled backwards on the bed, pulling Lance down on top of him. He reached his hands up and ran them through Lance's hair, tangling the longer, overgrown locks about his fingers as they kissed, keeping them pushed back from his forehead so they wouldn't fall and tickle his own.

He pulled back a little, turning his head to the side to gasp for clean breath. Shiro peered at Lance through the corners of his eyes, a sly smirk pulling at the edges of his lips. "You're a little needy this morning, hm?" he hummed jokingly through pants and heavy breaths. "You're literally all over me."

"Can you blame me?" he asked, straddling Shiro as he caught him in another quick and impatient kiss. "You've been tempting me all morning, and you didn't even realise. How was i meant to survive fifteen minutes away from you?"

A few more sloppy, impatient kisses and Lance finally pulled back, seeming a little more satisfied. "I'm sober this time," he said playfully, grinning while he trailed his fingers along Shiro's chest. "So what do you think?"

Shiro looked up at him, swallowing hard. "You mean you want to..." he trailed off, eyes growing a bit wider when Lance gave him a slow nod of approval. Shiro gulped again, looking down at himself, and then about the room, before letting his eyes travel back up to Lance's grinning face. "Jesus. I mean, yeah. Of course." Shiro gave a soft snicker, and leaned up a bit, kissing Lance once or twice more. "What? Does my puffy, tear stained face turn you on, McClain?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" came Lance's teasing as he pulled Shiro in for another impatient, desperate kiss. He was just about to start rolling his hips, getting friction and furthering the intimacy- not hearing the soft clicking of the keycard in the door until it was too late and Allura had walked into the apartment. The bedroom door was open- it wasn't like they were expecting company- and Lance had to throw himself off of Shiro in order to avoid being caught in such a position.

She came in with a grin on her lips, not noticing the flushed faces that looked at her, nor how awkwardly Lance seemed to be sitting to cover his crotch.

"I thought I should let you two know that Romelle is coming here today!" she said happily, her eyes sparkling. "She'll be bringing your papers so that you can travel to England under new identities! After her visit, we'll just need to get the house sorted and you can go!"

Shiro sat up from his splayed position on the bed, promptly crossing his legs and putting a hand up to the side of his face, trying to block Allura's view of his bright red cheeks. "That's great, Allura. Can't wait," he said in a blurt, voice a pitch or two higher than before. He adjusted his position a little, his underwear suddenly a bit too tight for his liking. Shiro brought his hand down, hoping his skin would cool off a bit more before Allura could notice anything. "Do, uh-" Shiro paused to give an awkward cough, clearing his throat. His voice dropped back down to normal. "Do we know what identities they are? Or is it, uhm, still like up to us?"

"She hasn't even told me, yet. I guess it'll be a surprise for us all," she said with a slight shrug, smiling. Lance nodded a little, taking Shiro's hand.

He turned his attention to the girl at the door.

"Hey, sorry, but could you- uhh- knock next time?" he asked, his face getting a little more red. "And could we have a little more time on our own?"

The wheels turned and it finally seemed to click in place- Allura realised that she'd interrupted and turned a very vibrant red (almost as bad as Shiro) before apologising profusely as she left.

Lance, feeling like the mood had been thoroughly crushed, slumped back on the bed.

"Oh my fucking god."

Shiro's posture slackened as well, his legs uncrossing themselves as he sank back down upon the mattress again. He put his hands up to his head, skin still boiling hot beneath his fingers. "Jesus," he muttered, shaking his head in his palms. "At least she showed up when she did. If she waited any longer it might have been harder to hide how... uhm... you know... I was." Shiro cleared his throat again, finding his voice to be a little higher than it should have.

There was a few seconds of silence as Shiro's system bitterly winded itself down. He waited until his breath was steady and his face was only a soft shade of pink before speaking again. "So, have you met Romelle before? Is she cool?"

"Never met her," Lance said, using a pillow to keep his crotch covered, too on edge to relax properly. "No clue what she's like- Allura never even mentioned her. I saw Romelle as her phone background once and asked who it was and she just changed it and asked what I meant."

He sighed a little and covered his face.

"That was fucking humiliating, Shiro. I'm going to kill her."

Shiro gave a soft laugh -- a laugh that was bitter and sharper than he intended with all of that disappointment still heavy in his excited system. "It could have been worse," he sighed. He turned around, laying on his side so he could look to Lance. Shiro couldn't exactly hide his smirk when he noticed the pillow, but he didn't say too much about it. "At least it gives us something else to do tonight then, huh?" he said in a slick cheerfulness, narrowing his eyes. "All we gotta do is stay sober."

"Ugh," Lance groaned. "You're asking too much of me."

He turned to his side, holding out his arms for Shiro, wanting to be held close. "Could have been worse, though, yeah. I mean- If she'd come in a minute later, I'm pretty sure I'd have been missing at least a shirt." He gave a teasing grin. "That would have been fun. Tonight, though. Yeah."

He brought Shiro close and began to press into his neck, hooking his legs over Shiro's. "Tonight sounds perfect."

Shiro laughed again, though it was a warm laugh that time. He lifted a slower, more gentle hand to Lance's head, and played with his hair a little bit, brushing it back in a much more romantic way than his desperate combing from before. "Yeah, real perfect. We'll meet back here at eight or something -- same spots, same way and same everything, alright? Recreate it or some shit," he teased, leaning forward to press a kiss onto his forehead. When he pulled back, he flicked his eyes down to the pillow, and then back up again. "You ready to go downstairs with Allura, or, uh, do you still need a few minutes, lover boy?"

Lance turned a little more red and thumped Shiro's chest with his fist.

"Oh my god, shut up," he said as he wriggled away from Shiro. "But yeah, I do need a couple minutes, so I'll meet you by the elevator? Thanks. Love you," he called simply, kissing Shiro's hand before carting him to the door and pushing him out, shutting the door behind his boyfriend so that he could... sort himself out.

As promised, though, he was out within a couple of minutes and ready to go meet Romelle, taking and squeezing Shiro's hand.

"Ready?"

Shiro rolled his eyes a little, impatient from his waiting, and leaned down to kiss Lance's temple. "I don't know, are you?" he asked slickly when he pulled back up, earning a swift swat on the arm from the man he teased. Shiro shook his head and took the hand Lance had hit him with, and began making his way out of the apartment and to the elevators, calling goodbye to Black who laid contently asleep on the counters, and to Blue who'd been rolling about on her back somewhere in the living room.

They made it downstairs, Shiro a little bit more touchy after that little excapade in the bedroom. He held onto Lance's hand with his prosthetic, and dragged his left hand's fingers up and down Lance's arm, loving the way his warmth tickled the skin of his fingertips. Shiro looked around some, trying to find Allura in the lobby. He spotted her somewhere by the desk, a bright smile on her face. She spoke to the woman at the desk -- the same one from earlier, and at her sides stood Lotor, and then someone else.

The new woman, the one Shiro suspected Romelle to be, was shorter and more frail looking. She had long blonde hair -- maybe even longer than Allura's had been -- pulled back into long pigtails that ended somewhere about her waist. Her skin was fair and her eyes showed a clear, deep blue from even across the room. She wore an abundance of sparkling jewelry -- some of which the brands Shiro recognized like the large golden gauntlet-type bracelet she had on her right wrist, or the dangling, diamond earrings he could have sworn he saw somewhere on one of his old shopping trips. His eyes turned to Allura, who held Romelle's hand in a gentle sort of way and stood close to her -- seeming considerably protective and considerably loving if Shiro could say so himself. Shiro smirked, and suddenly realized why Allura had all of those name brand shopping bags tucked away beneath her desk.

He tapped Lance's shoulder, and nodded towards the desk. The two then made their way over, surprisingly earning a smile rather than a grimace from Allura when she noticed them. Shiro stopped about a foot away from the trio, his eyes forcibly turned from Lotor's face (a face that seemed to look fairly bitter from Shiro's peripheral) and smiled.

 

"Hey," he said. He gave a look to Allura, exchanging a glance with Lance before he continued. "We're back and everything's all cool, Allura."

Allura nodded, smiling. She gestured to Romelle with her free hand.

"Good to see you. This is my girlfriend, Romelle," she said, watching as her girlfriend extended her hand for the two of them and introduced herself with a thick accent that even Allura couldn't quite place.

 

Lance smiled at her, his cheeks a little pink. Was it just a rule for everyone here to be beautiful? He shook her hand and complimented her earrings, sending a small glance to Shiro (as if to remind himself that he was in a relationship) as he took a step back. His eyes flickered to Lotor, who he'd only just noticed- despite Lotor being the tallest of the five of them.

He could recognise the look on his face. Not only did Lotor hate Romelle, but he was totally and utterly jealous. And even though nobody else did, Lance noticed the little glance that was sent to their interlocked hands and the way his shoulders slumped slightly.

Despite what had happened the night before, Lance couldn't help but feel bad for him.

Nonetheless, he focused on Allura.

"Shouldn't we go somewhere else to do this?" he asked, sending a paranoid glance around the lobby. She laughed a little.

"I was planning on that, after the introductions." Of course she was. Allura was just prepared for everything, all of the time. He moved a little closer to Shiro and held tighter to his hand. He suddenly didn't want to let the other get too far away or loosen his hold too much- Shiro was like a source of comfort. Besides, he liked seeing the amusement on Shiro's face each time he looked at the pouting Lotor.

Shiro had, in fact, been quite amused at the dreary look upon Lotor's features. So much so that, despite his apology to Allura, he decided to act upon his humor... just a bit.

He reached out his hand towards Romelle -- the prosthetic one, to keep his touch and Lance's still connected -- and smiled at her. "Nice to finally meet you, Romelle," he said sweetly, giving her a soft wink (with an accompanied, reassuring squeeze to Lance's arm, that is.) "Name's Takashi. You can just call me Shiro, though."

Romelle started to say hello back, but found her attention suddenly focused on Shiro's arm. Her eyes widened a bit, and her free hand shot up to shake Shiro's -- though more out of her own interest than out of formal manners. "Nice to meet you, too," she said, a little dazed, eyes running up and down the machinery of Shiro's arm. "Your arm is... very interesting..."

"Thanks. Your accents pretty cool, too," Shiro said, grinning a little. Once the handshake was over, Shiro brought his arm back and admired it some. "I don't know too much about it. It's kinda new. You should ask Lotor. He's the one who designed it." Shiro's tone was an intoxicatingly sweet sort of staged obliviousness -- one so entirely out of his character, Lance must have noticed for he felt a swift swat to his side. Luckily, neither Allura nor Romelle seemed to figure it out.

Lotor's stare was too boiling hot to miss.

He looked to Shiro and they met eyes for a brief moment- pure, fiery anger and a playful mischief- and he walked ahead. "I'll see you in the lab," he called over his shoulder, not sparing a glance back. Lance watched him walk until he turned the corner and was out of sight, giving Shiro a slight shove for that. It was unnecessary. Sure, he was annoyed at Lotor, but that had to be a step too far.

Nonetheless, neither Romelle or Allura had realised what Shiro had done, so he had no reason to bring it up.

He'd just hope that it wasn't treated like a big deal. Thankfully, Allura was eager to change the topic.

"So, the documents are prepared and Romelle has been looking forward to meeting you both- especially Shiro. She's had an interest in the Galra mafia for a while, solely due to how they run things. I think you two will get along well." Their mutual disliking for Lotor would guarantee that.

Shiro's smile became a little more brighter -- a little more genuine. "You've been looking forward to meeting me?" he asked, cocking his head at her.

"Oh yes," Romelle said, nodding. "I try to stay out of all of the mafia business the most I can but... it's all just so interesting to study! Not to mention my interest in mafia affairs brought me to Allura." She paused to send a warm glance upwards to the suddenly blushing Princess. Romelle looked back to Shiro. "But yeah. You're basically famous to someone like me. My brother is going to be so jealous when I tell him I met the Takashi Shirogane."

Shiro promptly blushed, not caring that Romelle had called him by his real name. He looked to Lance and gave a bright grin. "Did you hear that, Lance?" he said smugly. "I'm famous." Lance shoved him.

"Don't tell him anything else," he said as he looked at Romelle. "It all goes straight to his head, and it's already big enough as it is."

Lance smiled a little, deciding that if Shiro was going to have fun with this, so was he.

"So, Romelle," he began as he turned his attention to her. "As much as I'd love to hear Shiro talk about his life as a tragic hero, I'd really love to learn more about you. You have a lot of charm."

And yet, no sooner as the words had left his lips did Allura pull Romelle close and press a nice kiss to her cheek. He also felt Shiro shove him slightly. Perhaps, if he was going to flirt with anyone, he should do so with Lotor- who wasn't taken, and wouldn't kill him for it. Probably.

"Sorry, sorry," he said with a small smile, holding his hands up. "Let's go." He just wanted to get moving to avoid the awkwardness he'd caused from setting in.

Romelle seemed to be the only one who found it funny, giggling into her hands a bit and ignoring the way her girlfriend rolled her eyes. Shiro, Lance at his side and being gripped to a little tighter thanks to that comment of his, lead the pack back to the lab where Lotor had gone. He stepped aside, figuring Allura should have been the one to enter first with an angry Lotor somewhere behind that door, and let the two ladies pass. Shiro slipped in after them, and closed the door.

Coran, oddly, was nowhere to be seen. Lotor sat at his desk, typing away furiously at the keyboard, as if he'd been taking out his rage on the poor, clunking keys. Shiro let his eyes fall upon the medical cot, and gave an involuntary shiver, muscles tensing a bit at the sight of it. He closed his eyes, shook his head a little, and tried to ignore it -- instead focusing on his hand on Lance's.

Romelle, free from Allura's hand, pulled over one of the small, wheeled tables that were pressed up against the walls -- the same kind for holding equipment during surgery. She rolled it forward, leapt up to seat herself on the cot, and then pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She rummaged through it for a moment, and then pulled out a large, vanilla folder. Romelle set it down on the table, and clapped her hands together.

"Let's get this started, shall we?" she said in a chipper tone. "Let's sort all these papers and cards out, hm? I've got a backstory for each of you -- where you each lived, how you both met, birthdays, family. All sorts of stuff." Romelle looked up to Lance, a soft blush rising in her cheeks when she remembered his silly comment from before. "Lance, how about you come here first. I'll give you everything you need." Smiling a little, the brunet nodded and approached.

He stood in front of her, giving a warm smile. "This is a bit exciting," he said, hoping that there wouldn't be too much talk of family. He missed his family back home but he couldn't exactly talk about it with Shiro or Allura (who had no family and couldn't understand). Instead, he ignored any thoughts of them that he had and hoped he'd feel better again eventually. It worked sometimes. It didn't work other times. Not that Shiro knew- he still had yet to tell him about any of it.

 

He was trusting Allura to tell his family that he was alive.

Nonetheless, he stood before Romelle as she explained to him his life story- well, his recent story. Pike Pluviam, a broke chef, who took a job on a cruise ship out of desperation. That was when Shiro was beckoned over- so that she could tell him of his position as the captain of the ship- named 'The Atlas'. She tells them about their falling in love during a tour and deciding to settle down in England. Shiro would become Kuron, too. Kuron Custos, a retired navy vet who lost his arm in an explosion aboard his ship.

Lance smiled as he turned his gaze to Shiro, glancing over at Lotor who stood behind him. He'd put headphones in by now, and was no longer typing. Instead, he was taking out his feelings in a notebook, where he was drawing out blueprints. Lance turned his attention to Shiro to focus on him.

"How's that sound, Kuron?" he asked teasingly.

Shiro snorted a little. "Pretty good to me, Pike," he laughed. He turned to Romelle. "So how old are Kuron and Pike?"

Romelle smiled at him. "Same ages. Kuron is a few months younger than you, and Pike is a few months older than Lance. I don't remember the exact birth dates -- those would be on your birth certificates," he explained, patting the vanilla folder. "You'll be getting those, new social security numbers, new bank accounts, new insurance papers, new drivers and boating licenses. All of those, along with everything else you'll need, are all in this folder here. I've also written out your complete backstories that detail family life and relationships and all of that so you have everything if anyone asks you any hard questions. Scripts for your first meeting, personal stories, and all your 'favorites' are in there as well. It's basically everything you need to start a new life."

Shiro listened, trying not to get lost in the many, many words she told him. He nodded along when she was done, looking to Lance and smiling. "Seems as though we've got some homework to do tonight, hm?" he said smartly. "Study up on the lives of Kuron and Pike. But... that can wait until after our other thing we've got planned."

"What's your other thing?" Romelle asked innocently.

Shrio blushed and shook his head. "It's nothing, hun," he said with a smile, smugly noting the way Allura flushed with a knowing shade of red. "Inside joke." Lance glanced at Shiro and rolled his eyes, smiling softly.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Looks like we have got a lot of homework to do. Do we have anything else to pick up? I'd assumed that all the important documents would be left with Allura." He just didn't want to gather more stuff.

He wanted to go with Shiro to their bedroom- for obvious reasons.

His fingers laced with Shiro's and he gave his hand a nice squeeze, tempted to squeeze his ass but being smart enough not do so here. Probably in the elevator when they went back. He smirked a little- definitely in the elevator on the way back.

Romelle shook her head a little, lifted up the vanilla folder and held it out. Shiro took it with his free hand. "No. The only things you don't have yet are passports, and new cell phones. Allura and I are still working on that. I'll also have to get current pictures of you both — some for documentation, and some you can hang around your house," she explained, eying the way Lance held upon Shiro's arm. "We can have a proper photo shoot tomorrow, of course. I figured we could also all go out to eat sometime I'm still here? A double date and..." she trailed off, eyes flicking towards Lotor. "Friends." Her gaze flicked back to Shiro and Lance. "But that can also be discussed later, of course. You two seem a little anxious to get going."

Shiro blushed a little. "That's alright, Romelle," he said quietly. "There's no rush. Dinner sometime sounds great."

'No rush'? Lance couldn't fucking wait.

Romelle smiled at him, and tucked a hair behind her ear. She gave a warm look to Allura. "Dinner does sound great," she admitted, mostly to her girlfriend, a begging pout hiding somewhere upon her tone. She shook her head and turned back. "But there's only one more thing to discuss, and then I can let you go. Just so I can get the documents for you, are you two looking to get married?"

"What?" Shiro couldn't contain his blurting exclamation. He clapped a hand over his mouth — or... more specifically, the folder over his mouth. His hand tightened greatly against Lance's, squeezing down out of shock. It took a moment to regain himself, every eye in the room on him. "M... Married?"

A chill scraped down his spine at the way the word felt on his tongue.

 

"Married...?" Lance echoed to himself as he glanced up at Shiro, pulling back ever so slightly. "I mean- I don't know. I'd not mind, but we've only been dating for a week or so," he mumbled as he pulled back. "So I... I mean- I'd like to get married, I've always wanted to get married, but..." he folded his arms over his chest. "It's really, really soon. Should we really be thinking about that now? Couldn't we like... contact you if we ever decided to get married? Instead of choosing now?"

He had to admit, being married sounded nice. He'd always wanted one of those fairytale weddings or just something dramatic and social, and he'd always wanted to wear a nice, expensive tux while at the altar, but- but he'd only been dating Shiro for a week! He'd not been with him for long enough to even begin considering marriage!

Romelle looked at the both of them, noticing the bright blushes and uncomfortable sidewards glances from the two she'd been addressing. Her eyes widened a bit. "Oh," she said, blinking. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to impose or..." Romelle closed her eyes a little and shook her head. "I just figured you... you two seemed so close, so I thought that maybe..." She didn't need to finish -- it was fairly evident both Shiro and Lance understood from the looks they exchanged with one another. "But no worries. Yes, Lance. If you two ever decide marriage is best for you, you can contact me. It's a little riskier, and being married would match your stories better but... it's your choice."

Shiro swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah," he said, throat a little dry. "Yeah that's, uh, kind of a big choice to... to, uhm, make right now?" He took a step back, lifting a hand to his head. His mind flickered back to the ring he had packed in his suitcase upstairs. The ring Adam had given him that night on the beach. Shiro closed his eyes, rubbing at his temple -- as if trying to knead the memory away. "We'll just tell you. You know, if we need it."

"Sounds good," Romelle said, her voice nervously skeptical. "Well, you two can head off now. I'll be around for a few days, so we'll have lots of time to get to know each other. You guys go and... enjoy your inside jokes..." She lifted a hand to cover up a soft, tension relieving giggle.

Lance nodded a little. He sent another glance to Lotor, who hadn't even sent them a glance since their arrival, and began dragging Shiro out again without a word. He kept a tight hold on his hand again now, pulling him into the elevator and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, leaning up to press their lips together.

Right now, he wanted to forget about marriages and passports and Pike and Kuron. He just wanted to be Lance, dating and kissing Takashi, none of this alias crap.

And sex would do the job perfectly.

The elevator dinged and began to rise up. Shiro felt their weight change, stumbling backwards a bit until his back pressed against the wall, and Lance pressed against his chest. They kissed like they kissed before -- an exact repeat, perfected by the desperate man who clung to Shiro's waist and pushed his tongue past Shiro's lips. It was almost as if the previous conversation hadn't even happened -- almost as if the idea of their marriage hadn't been brought up and hadn't unnerved Shiro so much to the point of goosebumps.

Almost.

There was another soft tone from the elevators speakers, and the shaft bucked a bit -- stopping shortly before it rolled open its doors. Shiro pulled back from the kiss, nodding forward to show the oblivious Lance they'd been at their spot. The two stumbled forward, Shiro shooting a hand out to stop the doors from closing on them. They then made their way to the apartment room, Shiro unlocking the door with a rather clingy Lance at his side, kissing up his neck and about his jaw. Just before he turned the knob, Shiro turned his gaze down to Lance, and gave him a slick grin.

"Deja vu?" he asked in a low, flirty tone, pushing the door inwards.

"Shut up," Lance only responded, too impatient for too much teasing, as he kicked the door shut behind him and pressed Shiro against the wall to kiss him, aching for his touch and for the closeness.

He somehow managed to break away from Shiro long enough to get him to the bedroom (pausing to lock the bedroom door this time, just in case) and almost immediately being close enough to push Shiro onto the bed.

"Was it more romantic the other night?" he asked with a small grin on his lips, not waiting for an answer before bringing Shiro in for a more impatient kiss, his tongue sliding into the other's mouth as soon as he got the chance to.

Only breaking away when he needed to breathe, Lance awaited Shiro's response (or some kind of banter) to fill the silence while he lifted his shirt off over his head.

Shiro, feeling a little dazed, shook his head -- trying to think of something clever to say despite how light his mind suddenly became at the sight of Lance leaning over him, shirtless and blushing. "I mean I think this time is a bit more romantic," he said, trying desperately to keep that same cool, purring tone from earlier. "It depends, lover boy. How much are you gonna spoil me, hm?"

With that, he leaned up, stealing another kiss. One hand had been clasped around the back of Lance's neck, and the other traveled up his side, gracing over the warm skin of Lance's ribs, tracing from freckle to freckle as he dragged his fingertips all the way down to the waist of his pants. Shiro's finger ran along the hem of Lance's jeans, the rough fabric tickling his skin. There were a few more moments of that -- just deep kisses and gentle touches, before Shiro pulled back again. He gasped for breath, and when he gathered himself enough to speak, his voice was deep and whispery.

"Well, you have to help me with my shirt too. It's only fair."

Lance offered a grin and slid Shiro's shirt up, leaning down to press kisses along Shiro's toned chest. He let small butterfly kisses spread along muscles and scars, pushing Shiro's shirt up and following the fabric with his lips to kiss each little bit of the newly exposed skin. And then, finally, he pulled the shirt off and discarded it, leaving it on the floor by his own.

"That better?" he asked, his eyes locking with Shiro's as he pressed their lips together, though only for a fleeting moment this time. "I definitely prefer this view."

Shiro smiled up at him, heart still skipping beats as the ghosts of Lance's lips trailed up and down his chest. The feeling was absolutely euphoric. It left him feeling a pure sort of giddiness he had to admit he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Shiro suddenly hoped Lance would do it again, his skin and his scars already missing the warm kisses and the fluttery sensation each and every one would spurr about in his system. "Much better," he admitted, his eyes a bit hazier with want. There were a few more desperate kisses until he could properly speak again. "No interruptions, yet, as far as I can tell. I think it's safe to say we can ease it on up to the next level, don't you McClain? I don't really like all this waiting..."

"You say that like I'd care if someone interrupted at this point," he mumbled, though he got the hint.

He had to stop straddling Shiro to begin undoing and removing his pants, discarding yet another article of Shiro's clothing. He pulled back to remove his own pants (and making quite the show of it, to which Shiro gave a low whistle of approval), but not without blatantly ogling Shiro and admiring his muscles.

He kicked off his pants and moved back to the bed, kissing Shiro impatiently and cupping both of his cheeks as he pressed their bodies together. Shiro felt warm against him, and Lance could feel every little scar and the curve of each muscle against his skin. He began rolling their hips together, leaning into Shiro's neck the second that their other kiss broke to begin leaving some nice, obvious hickeys wherever he wanted. He'd left some last time, but they'd been small and uncoordinated, even if they were almost everywhere. Now, he wanted to leave a mark beneath Shiro's ear, along his neck and collarbone- those being the most obvious places, with the chances of him being cruel enough to leave one on his jaw.

For now, though, he was just focusing on leaving wet, slow kisses on Shiro's skin. The friction was already getting to him, and it was showing, but he didn't let it distract him as he began sucking Shiro's skin. He nipped, licking, making sure that the first hickey he made, the one below his ear, was as visible as possible. Shiro had been having enough trouble keeping quiet, biting down on his lower lip and squeezing his eyes so tight he was left seeing colors, but he couldn't hold onto his dignity any longer after that. A soft little sound that didn't even sound like him rolled past his parted lips, getting cut off by his own hitching breath of surprise, and a shudder.

Lance leant to Shiro's ear when he was satisfied with the mark, his lips tingling slightly.

"You sound really nice when you moan, Shiro," he teased with an air of pride, evidently quite proud that he'd derived such a sweet noise from Shiro's lips. "I'll have to make you moan more often."

Shiro swallowed, his gulp embarrassingly audible. It took him a few moments to calm his flustered system down enough to say anything that didn't sound too pathetic, his body almost feverishly warm beneath Lance's comfortably crushing weight. "I'd like..." he started in a panting sort of tone. "I'd like to see you try."

A bold statement. An astoundingly bold statement, considering Lance had already forced that sound from him and it hadn't even been ten minutes since they had even started. Shiro didn't care. Not only did his dignity tell him to keep his impossible cool, but the tension that began to wind up in his stomach from all that friction had him on the mindset that the consequences would be absolutely to die for. He turned his head to the side, tilting it upwards a bit, as if opening up his neck for Lance's lips and Lance's tongue. Shiro closed his eyes, feeling the buzzing contact of their crotches, and waiting- no, positively yearning for the contact of his throat and Lance's mouth.

"Take your best shot, Prince Charming," he said quietly, accepting his fate.

Lance shifted a little, swinging his leg back over to get off of Shiro. Instead of continuing to grind against him, his eyes settled on Shiro's obvious boner, still covered by the fabric of his boxers. It took him a moment to realise that this was actually happening and at that he had to remind himself not to get all shy now, of all times. He reached down and tugged the hem of Shiro's boxers, pulling them down and curling his fingers around his length, beginning to give slow and smooth strokes.

Then, just in case the contact wouldn't be enough, he leant into Shiro's neck to mark it further. Instead of just licking and sucking this time, he found a spot that he was assuming was sensitive (it had the biggest hickey on it from last time) and took a lucky guess as he sank his teeth into that spot.

It worked. With all his might, Shiro had managed to bite back a groan when he felt Lance's hand, only giving a soft gasp of surprise and another gentle shudder -- but the second he felt that soft pinch against the sweet spot on that sensitive skin of his neck, Shiro broke. He tilted his head back some more, another moan, longer and a little louder than before, escaped his open mouth. He lifted a hand to Lance's head, fingers curling about Lance's hair and holding it tightly.

His hips moved with Lance's hand, a little desperate for more of everything. He didn't vocalize it, though. No, the moans were enough. He didn't quite know if he could handle giving Lance the satisfaction of his begging... even in his hazy high, he could feel the twinge of embarrassment at the fleeting thought. Instead, he just let Lance take control, one hand gripping Lance's hair, and the other curled up in a tight hold on the sheets.

And the pleasure was deprived. Lance trailed his fingertips along Shiro's length as he pulled back, breaking away from his neck. He pinned Shiro's wrists down, even if Shiro tugged his hair a little as it was forced back.

"I win," he announced, grinning. "What'll my prize be, Takashi?" he asked, leaning in to kiss him again. "I might be satisfied with just hearing you moan for me- no holding back. You think you can do that?" he asked, smirking against his lips as he pulled away.

"Shit," Shiro whispered, his voice drawn out in a soft whine. "I guess I have to... just keep... keep doing what you're doing, Lance..."

He tugged Shiro's boxers off properly and his own followed shortly after. He, once again, needed a moment to fight off his inhibitions, but all he needed was to kiss Shiro again and all that he cared about was those lips on his own, their bodies together- he just couldn't wait for the night to progress.

"Is there lube?" he asked upon pulling away, most of their conversations just being brief remarks exchanged between kisses, but this time he didn't go in to steal another kiss right away. He needed to know where the lube was- if there was any. He wouldn't be complaining if there wasn't- Shiro would just have to use his mouth for more than moaning.

Shiro nodded quickly, desperate to continue. "My bag," he huffed out breathlessly, still bobbing his airy head up and down. "It's in my bag. Right... right pocket."

He felt Lance's warmth leave him, and suppressed another whine, biting at his raw bottom lip, and attempting to lift his head to look down at his chest. Wet kiss marks and glistening hickeys danced up his collarbone, some older and just touched up, and others newer and larger and deeper in color. Shiro felt the mark on his neck again -- the good one -- and shivered, laying his head back down as he waited.

Fucking Lance knows what he's doing then, huh? Virgin my ass.

Lance had soon found the lube, and peeked up over the edge of the bed- smiling a little at the nice view he got of Shiro. He let out a whistle. "What about the condoms, big man?" he asked, making sure Shiro noticed as his eyes trailed along Shiro's body- slowly, before meeting his eyes again.

"Oh, shit," Shiro muttered, looking at him. He blinked and shook his head, trying to remember. His mind was fogged and cloudy -- it took him a moment as he thought back to the night he left his apartment. "There's a little zipper on the inside. There's four in there... I think..."

He trailed off, head lolling back against his neck. "Just fuckin' hurry..." Shiro added with a whine. 

He dug out the condoms where he was told they'd be and moved back to the bed with one in hand, cupping the back of Shiro's neck as he leant in to kiss him yet again. His lips were damn addictive- he'd already noticed it so many times but damn, Shiro was just addictive to kiss and bite and- everything.

He moved back shortly, though, glancing at the lube and then at Shiro. He rubbed some onto his fingers, settling between Shiro's legs as he rubbed two fingers against Shiro's entrance. He was patient, though, despite how all prior actions contrasted that, and only slid in one finger. His cheeks turned a little red at the realisation that he was currently preparing Shiro to have sex with him- that he was actually going to have sex with him in the first place.

It wasn't exactly the first time, but he could tell from Shiro's shyness (if you could call it that) that he'd not been the one to top last time. First time for everything, though- even for your second time, apparently.

Shiro wasn't quite as patient. All that teasing and grinding and kissing had him desperate and ready, his stomach feeling as though it had been coiled into tight, painful knots. He dug his head back into the mattress, muttering the occasional 'come on' or 'Jesus Christ, Lance...' He swore some, too. Bitterly so. All the while he wondered if Lance had been listening -- wondering if Lance heard his desperation. With how incredibly slow he'd been going, Shiro figured he might not have.

His one hand curled desperately around his bundle of sheets, so tightly he could feel his nails prick at his palm from even against the layers of fabric. The other -- the prosthetic -- laid upon his chest, fingers seizing a bit with the softest mechanical whispers to Shiro's suddenly hypersensitive hearing. He wanted to grip Lance's hair again. Pull him close. Shiro closed his eyes and waited, both hands gripped tightly into fists.

Patience. That's your whole thing, Shiro. Be patient...

And, finally, as if he had decided that Shiro had earned it, Lance pushed the second finger in and began moving both digits a little quicker. Not too much- he didn't want Shiro get comfortable- but enough for it to satisfy his boyfriend's neediness for at least a few moments longer.

"Damn, Shiro," he muttered, smirking. "You're a lot needier than I'd have thought. It's really damn cute."

He leant in, pressing kisses along Shiro's chest and stomach again- these ones slower, wetter, lingering for longer. Occasionally, if Shiro's breath caught or he let out a noise, Lance would linger long enough, sucking and nipping, to leave hickeys. Only smaller ones here, but he slowly made his way to Shiro's neck to leave larger hickeys- revenge hickeys, even. And by the time it had progressed to there, he had three fingers inside Shiro and was moving them all at a much quicker pace.

Hell, even he was too impatient for his own teasing.He wanted Shiro moaning and squirming and desperate, but he wanted that now.

Shiro, as promised, bit his ego back enough to keep from holding the sounds each and every nip of Lance's mouth and each and every movement of Lance's fingers inspired from his lips. He moaned and he whimpered and he swore, unwinding a bit more every time he'd let himself display his pathetic neediness. Soon he'd be exactly the way Lance wanted him, and he hadn't even gotten to the good part yet. Every now and then Lance would make a comment about his yearning state, and Shiro would do nothing but huff and tell him to keep going, the impatience building up and up and up until it just about suffocated him.

"Lance," Shiro groaned, his hips moving up and down with Lance's fingers. The hand that had been on his chest now groped blindly upwards for Lance's shoulder, clasping onto it and squeezing it tight. "Come on... More."

"More?" Lance echoed as he pulled his fingers out, smirking to himself as he spread Shiro's legs, opening the condom wrapper. "Say it again- this time with a little more pleading. For me?"

He leant in again and pressed his lips to a fresh hickey on Shiro's chest, getting the condom out of the wrapper successfully and beginning to slide it onto his length. It felt weird, to say the least, but he desperately wanted to fuck Shiro- he was too impatient to tease any longer, and he positioned himself. He pressed his tip against Shiro's entrance, but pinned Shiro's hips down. He wanted to hear his pleading before he gave him what they both wanted. Call it cruel, but Lance had made up his mind and he was too damn cocky to do anything without hearing it.

Shiro whimpered a little, groaning out of frustration. "Lance," he started in a growling sort of tone, swallowing hard. "Come on just..." Shiro trailed off, feeling as though rebellion was utterly futile. There were a few moments of tensioned hesitation, his whole system buzzing like pure electricity as he held back the urge to fall apart.

The moments passed, however, and Shiro broke, completely desperate.

"Please," he moaned in a long beg, trying to move his pinned hips, squirming. "Please, Lance... hmmn.... Fuck. Please... please, Lance. More."

Lance, finally satisfied, let his hands settle on Shiro's thighs.

"Good boy," he hummed as he began to press into him, letting out a low groan. He paused every so often, making sure to give Shiro plenty of time to adjust around him before burying himself fully inside his boyfriend. He took a moment or so to let Shiro adjust and bask in the sensation of the warmth enveloping his length- before finally beginning to roll his hips.

He started with slow and smooth movements at first, rolling his hips and closing his eyes. He breathed out Shiro's name along with soft, pleasured curses. Shiro felt so impossibly good- it was damn near overwhelming.

Finally.

Shiro pressed his head back again, eyes screwed to a close, mouth parted open just slightly so he could shower Lance with more mewls and whimpers -- figuring it was only fair to drag out his prize. Shiro moved his body along with Lance's, feeling the rhythm of their hips start to take shape. His hand still gripped Lance's shoulder, the metallic fingers digging into his muscle with the same intensity that his left hand dug into the sheets with. It felt like actual Nirvana, each time Lance could slide closer, Shiro's whole body rippling with giddy shudders, the warm gooseflesh rolling over him like waves of heat from from a nearby flame. He could feel his heartbeat slam against his rib cage, his breath getting more and more haggard as their rhythm increased in speed.

He tried to open his thighs up some more, wanting an impossible amount of stimulation. Shiro wrapped one of his legs about Lance's waist, and found a sharp gasp in his throat, which was followed by a deeper moan. It was rare he'd find such a sweet spot -- even on the seldom occasions he'd bottom for Keith, he'd never felt such a spark. Shiro murmured Lance's name in long, drawn out groans, both hands squeezing tighter. He was getting close, and getting there incredibly fast. Faster than usual, he would have to admit.

Not that Lance was too far off either, though, as he moved his hips quicker, burying himself inside Shiro again and again with each impatient and rough thrust. His eyes fixed on Shiro and his gorgeous, flushed face, and he pulled him in for another demanding kiss while he searched for that special fucking spot- wanting to hear Shiro be louder than usual. He wanted him to moan and to writhe and he wanted him to climax. He wanted to make Shiro cum so that he could know that he'd done a good job pleasuring his boyfriend.

He wanted to make Shiro scream- though in their current housing situation, he should probably save that for their new house.

Shiro's kiss was sloppy, interrupted by his own moans and muttered curses, but Shiro's kiss was also heated and desperate. Their tongues met and their teeth knocked and their lips buzzed together as the rhythm steadily began to fall apart as their need for the climax took over. Shiro hooked his other leg around Lance, hoping for the same result as last time, and broke the kiss to give the loudest moan he'd delivered that night so far. He hung his head back, his hand abandoning that clump of sheets to instead clutch onto Lance's back -- nails scraping down Lance's smooth skin as he clawed at him. That was the spot -- right fucking there. Shiro's eyes rolled behind his closed lids, and he moaned again.

"Lance... shit. Shit! Mmmf..." he mumbled out incoherent slurs and mutters such as that, reduced to nothing but a weak, whining mess.

The feeling was too good. Almost too good to be real. Shiro groaned again, Lance's name on his lips. His back arched up, the tension in his stomach twisting and twisting and turning and turning until the coil could finally-

Snap.

Shiro abruptly cried out Lance's name, his nails digging sharply into the flesh of Lance's back as he came. The release was heavenly -- relief and bliss spilling and washing about his tight, tensioned system as his back steadily relaxed and his body slumped downwards. Every muscle went slack, hands unclenching from Lance's poor back and falling listlessly down to his sides. Shiro's head turned off to the side, long, desperate gasps of air rushing in and out of his mouth and past his lips. It took him a few moments to gather himself together, having simply fallen apart with all of that pleasure wafting about his system. When he did, all he could manage to do was whisper a weak, delicate "Fuck."

Lance continue to move his hips until he heard that delicate curse, finally pulling out. He peeled off the condom and discarded it, curling his fingers around his length and finishing himself off, letting out a few breathless moans as he held Shiro's hand with his free one, pressing a soft kiss to it.

He dug around for tissues and cleaned Shiro up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before wiping himself and the bedsheets clean, too. He discarded the tissues and the condom in the bin and finally slumped down in bed beside Shiro. Both arms wrapped tightly around him and he smiled delicately, nestling into Shiro's neck. His eyes closed, shoulders slumped, and he relaxed.

Nothing better for mid-afternoon plans than some wonderful sex with your wonderful boyfriend, right?

There was a few minutes of silence -- comfortable, welcomed silence -- as the two calmed down, just holding each other as they laid there on the bed. Shiro swallowed, his throat feeling dry and parched, raw with all of that noise he'd been making. After a while, he felt like he had to say something.

"That was..." he started in a croaked murmur. "That was incredible. Never did I think I'd be bottoming in this relationship but fuck, Lance. You're really good."

Shiro's breath was just barely tremulous. His muscles still twitched, but gently, and only did so after longer intervals of time. His lashes fluttered when he opened them, turning to look at Lance in the afterglow. Shiro smiled at him, eyes half lidded as he moved forward and kissed his bottom lip -- just gently. Lance smiled softly into the kiss and returned it with as much loving gentleness.

"I think I need some water," he said softly when he pulled away. "And we should probably shower or something. I feel like I could sweat for days..." Shiro shook his head a little. "What do you think about dinner with Allura and Romelle tonight?"

Lance grinned a little, leaning in and pressing his forehead against Shiro's.

"Sounds nice, yeah," he said with a smile. "And I think we have plenty of time for a shower. Come on, we should go so that we'll actually be ready before the restaurant closes." He slipped out of bed, holding out a hand for Shiro.

Shiro took his hand, wobbling a bit on his feet. He felt drained -- but a nice sort of drained. His muscles were weary, but pleasantly relaxed. His head was still dizzy from all of that rushed blood flow, but it was blissfully airy. They made their way to the bathroom together, and, with some convincing from Shiro, decided to just shower together. It was big enough, and they, of course, were close enough. Shiro even got to wash Lance's hair, and run a concerned thumb down the red scratches that shined brightly against Lance's raw skin. The two washed themselves quickly, and then dressed themselves quickly. With time to spare they lounged in the living room with Blue and Black, patiently drinking their waters as the clock ticked on.

On the way out the door to the lobby, Shiro remembered the hickeys on his neck and below his ears. When he stopped at the door to whine about it, Lance gave him a shrug and continued on down the hall, his snicker making Shiro huff. With a desperate glance back into their apartment, Shiro shook his head, and closed the door as he stepped away.

He pretended not to notice the proud glint in Lance's eyes as he pouted all the way to the lobby.


	26. Going Out

They met Allura, Romelle, and, to Shiro's bitter surprise, Lotor in the cafe after leaving the elevator. Shiro, instinctively, put his hand up to his neck to cover the biggest of his scattered hickeys as they approached, pretending he had a stiff neck. He noticed the way Lance smiled at his fussing, but he didn't say anything -- Allura had already waved, and they were too close to keep out of earshot.

"Hey," Shiro said, still pretending to rub at his neck. He glissed his gaze about the three sitting around the table, a soft blush rushing to his cheeks when he caught Lotor suspiciously eying the area about his ear. Shiro gave up and let his hand fall to his side, and sighed. "You guys just about ready to go?"

Romelle's mouth fell open a little at the sight of Shiro's neck, and she shot a look at Allura, who gave her a slow nod to assure her suspicions. She blushed, eyes averting to the table. "I think so," she said. "Are, uhm, you two ready?"

 

Shiro nodded, discreetly swatting at Lance's side when he heard him giggle. "Yep," he sighed, nodding. "All we need is a ride." He looked to Allura. "Same place as before, right? We promise we won't get as drunk this time. Keep a good impression for the missus." Shiro winked at her after that, grinning a little. Lance shoved him slightly.

Allura nodded.

"Same place as last time. Romelle and I will be in the front of the car, you Lotor and Lance will be sat together in the back- provided that that's okay."

Lance nodded, Lotor giving a reluctant nod. And, even if Shiro had objected, two of the three had agreed to it. Allura began to lead them to the car, opening the door and getting in. Romelle got in the passenger side and pressed a kiss to Allura's cheek before clipping in her seatbelt. Lotor, unusually silent, sat in the middle. Lance was on his left. Shiro, his right. His arms were folded over his chest and he stared dead ahead, out of the window, showing no willingness to engage in conversation.

Lance understood, sure, he'd been in the same mood after several failed relationships, but that didn't mean that it wasn't irritating to be in the company of someone so blatantly miserable. He leant forwards and looked over to where Shiro sat.

"Hey, baby," he said, noticing how Lotor tensed when he realised that he was the only person in the group who wouldn't be obnoxiously romantic. Had Allura not already started the car and begun driving, he likely would have changed his mind and cancelled the plans.

The worst part was that the only person he was stood with that wasn't pissed off at him was Allura.

"What are we going to get this time?" Lance asked Shiro, grinning happily at his boyfriend. "There was so much on the menu- I don't know what I'm going to go for. And, hey, you promised we wouldn't get drunk so you owe me a trip to a bar now."

Shiro looked at Lance from the corners of his eyes, not exactly daring to turn his head. His whole system felt stiff next to Lotor -- his muscles tight with newly wound tension whenever their shoulder would brush or touch. The whole thought made Shiro bristle. Just minutes ago he'd been so content. So relaxed. And then Lotor had showed, and ruined everything -- just as he had done the night before.

It wasn't like Lotor was thinking any differently.

"I don't know," he said, shrugging a little. His shoulder bumped Lotor's, and the two exchanged dark glances before Shiro looked away, back to Lance. "We'll have to check the menu again. I honestly wouldn't mind getting the same thing. Tasted pretty fuckin' great, anyways."

Sighing, Shiro turned his head forward, leaning forward a bit and looking at Allura. "Hey are we, uh, all sitting together?" he asked her, the pronunciation of all a bit too obnoxious. Shiro tried to tune it down a bit after the glance he earned from Allura in the rear-view mirror. "I mean, not that there's not a problem or anything. Just, uh, asking."

"Ideally, yes," Allura answered as she met his eyes for a brief moment. Lotor grit his teeth a little in response to both Shiro and Allura, leaning back in his seat. "But it depends on the available tables."

Lance smiled. "That'll be nice. It'd be good to get to know you a little better. Hey, maybe I can ask some questioned about you without getting shushed, Allura!" he said happily, his sparkling eyes fixing on her. She rolled her eyes a little, smiling.  
"Yeah, maybe," she agreed warmly.

Lotor still stayed silent. He had nothing to do- he didn't trust phones so he only had one for business (it was currently in his office) and he had no other means of entertaining himself. Interrupting the conversation would do nothing but fill the air with tension and hatred. He was smart enough to stay quiet now, unaware that Lance didn't actually dislike him. Well, he was sitting on the fence about it, but he neither liked nor disliked Lotor. He was just assuming that he didn't want to be involved in conversations as opposed to not feeling welcome enough to.

The drive was much like the other night -- a bit more tense and bit more quiet, but fairly similar in both the length and the journey. Shiro looked out the window, knowing that if he spoke it would be snide and if he caught eyes with Lotor again his look would be cold. It was clear outside, the sky that would peek out from behind the buildings a deeper, vibrant shade of orange as the sun sank down into her place of hiding for the night. Shiro watched as the orange dimmed and the bleaker shade of purplish grey took over, the sky just almost black by the time they had reached the parking lot of that lavish restaurant. Shiro gave a soft hum of thought as he leaned back from the window, reaching to undo his seatbelt as Allura rolled up to the valet, as Lotor had done just those few nights ago.

The sun sure was beginning to set earlier. Winter was almost upon them... Shiro hadn't thought about that in a while.

His door was opened for him, and he slid out, waiting for Lance at the curb. Shiro and Lotor met stares for just a moment -- the fleeting second a sour, uncomfortable one -- and then both looked away, too bitter to speak to one another up front. Finally, Lance emerged from his side of the car, and Shiro held his hand out to him, blocking out the thought of Lotor all together with a brighter smile at the lovely ex-officer who made his way towards him.

Shiro wasn't dressed quite as dapper as the rest of the group. With tighter black jeans, a regular old white shirt, and his favorite leather jacket thrown over top of it, he wasn't exactly trying to go for proper dinner wear. Rather, he was certainly dressed to please. He'd worn all his jewelry -- all the piercings around the cartilage of his right ear, along with a dangling, silver cross earing, a few rings on his left hand, and a chain linked silver necklace with a large, pure golden lion that sat and snarled on his chest. His hair was combed and his eyes had been winged with a half empty eyeliner he found stuffed somewhere in his bag. The only thing he didn't like about his outfit that night had been his glasses... he thought about wearing a fresh pair of contacts, but he couldn't find himself abandoning his stupid, black frames when it came to it.

Because he was dressing to please Lance. Not himself. Lance liked his glasses.

When Lance had gotten over to him, he looped an arm about his waist and pulled him close. "I call sitting next to La-ance~," he called childishly to the group, drawing out Lance's name in a silly little hum.

"Alright, alright," Lance said with a warm smile. "You can sit with me, but only because I love you." He leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's cheek, smiling. Romelle and Allura were holding hands while Shiro and Lance were damn near inseparable. 

Lotor, on the other hand, was alone. He had his arms folded over his chest, his teeth sinking into and working his lower lip. His eyes flickered around- from the small group he was with to the people nearby, staring and talking and enjoying their day out. Lonely people, couples, groups. How was he a lonely person in a group of couples?

Lance turned his head up and looked at Lotor- only to quickly look away when he realised that Allura and Romelle had begun striding proudly ahead. He squeezed Shiro's hand gently, pressing kisses along the knuckles fondly. He was so handsome, simply perfect. He had to say that he much preferred the glasses to the contact lenses. Shiro was just cute with glasses, and his hair was a little more tame than usual. His makeup was beautiful, too, even if he wasn't wearing much.

And it seemed to occur to him all over again that he was in love.

Everything about Shiro made his heart swell and feel light in his chest. He took a triumphant hold on Shiro's hand, a little more pep in his step as he took prideful steps behind Allura and Romelle, as if he was showing off that he had Shiro- parading him.

They were soon guided to a table. The five of them. It was a crescent shape, as it had been last time. Romelle sat at one end, next to Allura. Then there was Lance and Shiro, and finally Lotor. He was sat at the edge, his bag beside the chair. He was the one who had brought the bag, his wallet inside. He was going to be paying for the food. He couldn't recall how Allura had sweet-talked him into it, but he could vaguely remember nodding along, smiling, and promising that he'd cover dinner for her. She'd thanked him, pat his shoulder, and immediately gone running to Romelle to tell her about how wonderful the evening would be.

Lotor wasn't one for jealousy- he was already too purple with his ties to the Galra mafia, he didn't want to be tainted with green envy, but he couldn't help himself.

Seeing Allura as happy with Romelle as she had once been with him was painful- it made him grind his teeth and feel sick to his stomach. Perhaps he could just leave his wallet so that they could pay for it without him needing to be there.

And, perhaps the worst part, was that Shiro and Lance were fully aware of the jealousy that plagued him. He cared enough to be discreet when Allura or Romelle paid attention to him (which was rarely if not never) but when they weren't looking, the other two were. And Lance- Lance always had that knowing glint in his eyes while Shiro just... he knew. The little smirk, the cocked eyebrow, the way his eyes sparkled at the idea that he knew something that could get under Lotor's skin, it was all just too obvious.

And Lotor despised that he let Shiro have so much power over him.

It was nauseating to think of.

As Lance had said previously- his ego was already big enough. He didn't need things like this getting under his skin and convincing him that he had more power than he did.

Although, seeing the marks on Shiro's skin, Lotor already knew how to retaliate in case Shiro did say something unnecessary.

While their truce may be intact, Lotor had nothing stopping him from publicly humiliating Shiro. Their boundaries had been set at no physical harm provided that harm doesn't befall Lance.

 

"-wouldn't you say so, Lotor?", and he was snapped back to reality, dragged out of his thoughts by his ear as Allura made an obvious attempt to keep him included. He turned his gaze to her, ignoring the six eyes that stared at him unblinkingly, waiting for his response.

Apparently, Allura had been telling a good story.

"Ah, my apologies, I was distracted. Would you mind repeating the question?"

Allura smiled patiently.

"I was discussing Shiro's arm. 'I think it's a revolution of technology. Wouldn't you say so, Lotor'?"

"Ah, right, well- yes. It is. The simplistic design, less need for materials, the simple powering system. Designed by me entirely but with Coran's help in getting the materials. I assembled it alone, too, and it's something I'm quite proud of-"

Shiro saw an opportunity to strike, and seized it, leaning forward a little as he cut Lotor off.

"Yeah, it's great and all," Shiro said, tilting his head up a little. He flitted his eyes to Romelle, who had turned her fascinated attention back to him and all his glory, and gave a triumphant grin -- glad he stole her focus back. "The lack of biceps can get difficult though. I mean, a floating arm is cool and everything, and I'm glad I've got it... but it's kinda..." He trailed off, rolling his hand about the air to both build anticipation and make it seem as though he'd been searching for the right word. "Inefficient."

It was the right word, too. Shiro noticed the way Lotor bristled, and felt a rush of achievement flood about his veins.

"Oh?" Romelle asked, cocking her head a little. "How so?

When Shiro looked at his audience, he found matching looks of interest in the girls, a warning scold from Lance beside him, and the narrowed-eyes and blushing face of the brewing Lotor. The only look that troubled him was Lance's -- the soft pang in his gut causing him to squeeze Lance's hand a little tighter beneath the table in a sort of reassuring way. He continued, nonetheless, acting in an almost guarishly sweet sort of way as he continued on.

"Well, it works fine and everything, but I can't lean it on anything. I can't cross my arms anymore. The light is really bright all the time. I have to rip the right sleeves off of all of my shirt because of this big shoulder thing." Shiro paused to look down and frown at his beloved jacket, still hurt from having to cut it up the way he had before they left. He shook his head and looked back up, giving a soft shrug. "It's great and all, and I'm still thankful for it I guess, but... it's almost too much. Too showy. Wouldn't be my first choice..."

Shiro turned his head to look at Lotor, offering a soft smile. If any other person had looked upon his face, they'd guess he'd been genuine -- his features were soft and set in a respective sort of look as he looked at Lotor from his seat -- but an experienced man such as Lotor himself could sense the snarkishly mean twinkle ashine in his eyes.

"But thanks. You worked hard on it. It's great," he said, giving Lotor a wink.

Romelle hummed a little, nodding. She turned to look to Lotor as well, cocking her head a little. "I suppose I can see some of the problems such a design could offer, but it really is significant, Lotor," she said innocently, her voice a bit more uncomfortable when addressing him straight on. Her hand was curled tightly, and very presently, about Allura's. "What prompted you to make such a... such a..." Romelle trailed off, lacking the words.

"Bold?" Shiro interjected smartly.

"Ah yes! Thank you, Shiro. What prompted you to make such a bold choice with your design, Lotor?"

When Lotor spoke again, his voice was full of tension and irritation, not subtle by any means. All malice he held was directed solely at Shiro.

"Curiosity to see if it would work, a desire to revolutionise technology and prosthetics. But, by all means Shiro, feel free to live with only one arm if my prosthetic is beneath you with its impractical design. I surely can't expect you to live without being able to cross your arms." He studied Shiro's face for a few quick moments, having already noticed the glimmer in his eye but now he was noticing more- the maliciousness of the smirk curled up on his lips, the cruel amusement so clearly on display at Lotor's response.

He was giving Shiro the reaction he wanted, but frankly- he just didn't care.

"Judging from the state of your neck, though, the hand works perfectly fine with all kinds of situations and needs. I doubt that Lance would complain about it."

Shiro's smirk slipped away, and his hand flew instinctively to his neck, skin flushing a deep red.

Allura let out a shocked gasp, furrowing her brows.  
"Lotor!" she scolded, but nonetheless he continued and ignored her.

"But, of course, you know best. The client is always right. I'll choose to ignore the fact that you've been avid to degrade me or humiliate me in front of my friends." He glanced at Romelle, and his tone soured a little more, as if he'd just reminded himself that Allura was the only person at the table who cared for him. "In front of my friend."

Lance grit his teeth, humiliation causing his cheeks to redden and he hid his face in Shiro's side, not liking that Allura would be able to see him so flustered with embarrassment. He hadn't even been involved and it wasn't Lotor's business. And yet, despite how much both him and Shiro wanted Lotor to stop talking, he continued.

"Putting all of that aside, I'll remove your prosthetic and redesign you one with a forearm. Better yet, I'll find the exact designs needed for you to have the same arm as before. The tracking chip to let the Galra find and kill you can come free of charge, if you'd like."

The others at the table were simply listening with shocked silence. Not only was Lotor openly being more vulgar about Shiro, but he was openly insulting him and threatening to return him to the Galra mafia for his ungratefulness.

After a few moments of getting ahold of his head, Shiro narrowed his eyes, and found his tongue sour with loathsome hatred. "Oh, so you want your daddy to go and torture me again?" he said darkly. "Wouldn't be surprised. You already threw me to the wolves once. Why not do it again? Hell, why not send all of us? Anything to save your status, right?"

Lotor grit his teeth, hands curling into fists as he dug his nails into his palms.  
"Don't speak of my father," he hissed, gritting his teeth, but he didn't retaliate further. Even the mention of him... Lotor hadn't been so visibly upset in all his time around Shiro. In fact, he hadn't been so upset in front of anyone, not even Allura- and he'd been dating her.

After a few moments of dead silence, Allura was the first one to speak.

"Lotor," she said in a decisive and tense voice. "I think you ought to leave."

The words hung heavy in the air for a few seconds before Lotor stood.

He picked up his bag and dug around for a moment to get his wallet out, placing it on the table.

"And now that you have that, there's not a reason single reason why you would need my company anymore. I'll be in the lab-" he shot Shiro a glare. "Working on designs."

And with that, he left.

There was more silence — heavy silence — until Romelle gave a delicate clearing of her throat. "That... was a little unexpected," she muttered, face still a little pink with hurt blush from Lotor's crude addressing to her. "Do you think it was me? I was just trying to be friendly..."

"I don't think it was you," Shiro muttered, tone still a little dark from his previous malice. His hand was at his throat, his blush still prominent about his cheeks and neck and ears. "I have beef with him. Lance kinda has beef with him. Obviously he has beef with you. He was just a fifth wheel anyways. It's probably best he split."

Lance was uncomfortably quiet, just burying his nose in the menu to avoid being involved further. He didn't like having Shiro talk about Lotor like that. He might have been irritated with him, he might have wanted to scold or even hit him, but Shiro's comments were unnecessary.

His mention of the models false inefficiencies had been unnecessary, as had Lotor's mention of the hickeys.

His use of words had been unnecessary, as had Lotor's retaliations to it.

Though, the worst part, was Shiro mentioning Lotor's father.

It made Lance uncomfortable and he wasn't the one who had been abused by Zarkon. He pulled his hand away from Shiro's to 'hold the menu open'. He just wanted an excuse to let go of his hand.

Allura spoke up.

"We should order! No point in making a fuss about it. As long as he didn't take the car back with him, we'll have no issues."

Shiro nodded, glancing at Lance from the corner of his eyes — the absence of his hand a bit jarring. He saw the hand on the menu, and tried dismiss Lance's pulling away of his hand as just that... but he couldn't quite shake off the feeling he'd done something wrong.

He didn't do anything wrong. Well, he did, but it was justified, wasn't it? If only Lance could have heard the things he said the night before — then he'd understand. Shiro looked down at the table, frowning a bit as he ran the conversation through his head a few times.

Maybe he had gone a bit far... he'd been the one to start it, anyways. He'd been the one who said anything. He'd been the one to egg Lotor on...

He'd been the one to mention his father.

Shiro's frown soured some more, the occasional conversation from the table about him sounding distant and blotted to his ears and his concentrated mind. That was a step too far — a few steps too far, really. It was low of Lotor to mention the Galra, of course, but it was lower of Shiro to mention such a vile, sensitive character of Lotor's strange narrative. It was almost as bad as Lance mentioning Adam in that argument they had so long ago.

He thought of that. That argument. He thought of that insufferable sweep of pain and anger that had flushed through him when Lance said all those things about Adam. He thought of his tears and of his hysteria and of his punch he let loose upon Lance's poor face — his poor broken cheekbone.

Shiro glanced down at his hand, curling it up into a tight fist. Was that how Lotor felt? Did he feel the same rush at the mention of his father? Did he feel the same need to release all of that emotion? To punch something?

To punch someone?

"Excuse me," Shiro blurted, an impulsive decision suddenly set stone in his head. He stood up, knees bumping against the table and shifting it back a bit with a loud scraping sound. "I... I have to go to the bathroom."

He scooted past Lance and left in a hurry, not listening to the flurry of voices behind him. Instead of turning towards the bathrooms, their signs apparent in his right, Shiro turned towards the doors to his left. He slipped out into the chilly air outside, and scanned about for the valet. The man... boy, really, stood in front of a lavishly dressed couple, speaking to them with a smile. Shiro approached, not really thinking.

"Hey," he said sharply, interrupting their conversation. "Have you seen a guy with long white hair? He was a member of my party. Might have come through here? Might have taken the car?"

The valet looked at him, a bit stunned at his impatience. "He didn't take the car," he muttered in a stuttering sort of way, his eyes flicking to the sour faces of the couple he was attending. "I think he went that way- but sir you really should..."

Shiro didn't hear the rest of whatever he bumbled out, and instead began his trek in the direction the valet boy had pointed. He didn't keep his head low and his didn't avoid the stares of the people on the street, and instead looked about keenly, his brow furrowed as he ran his gaze about the thinner, late night crowd of the city. Shiro found himself trotting, recognizing his path as the way they had driven — using street signs for turns and other pedestrians for directions if he got a bit too lost. He didn't care about his face or his infamous reputation that plagued the town he currently ran about in — he had one objective, and that was Lotor.

Finally, on a more empty street a few blocks away from their hotel, he spotted a flash of white turning the corner. Shiro's eyes brightened, and he broke into a jog, shoes clapping upon the pale pavement of the sidewalks. He turned the corner, spotted Lotor a good ten feet or so away, and called out to him.

Shiro saw him stop and turn, and promptly slowed back down to a panting trot as he made his way to the tense man he called to. Finally, he slowed to a stop, leaving some comfortable distance between them as he leaned over and tried to collect his breath. The instant he heard the first rolling sound of an accusation or something of the sort from Lotor's lips, Shiro straightened up and held out a hand to cut him short.

"Punch me," he said breathlessly, shaking his head. There were a few moments where he tried to iron out the heaving of his chest before he continued. "Punch me, Lotor. Right in the face. Break my cheekbone. Or my nose. Or better yet, my jaw. Just do it."

Lotor watched him for a few moments, before glancing around as if he expected Romelle or Allura to be hiding to wait for him to do something wrong. As if he was being lured into a trick, into being made a villain. Shiro had already done so much to defile the good name he'd spent years building. He was quiet, looking back at Shiro when he couldn't find anyone.

Shiro put his hand down, looking right into Lotor's eyes with a look so set and determined he could almost feel the unbudging connection. "Come on, Lotor. I deserve it. What I said was wrong. What I did was shitty," he said earnestly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry everytime I look at you or hear you or even think of you I lash out. I'm sorry I can't think of anyone but myself. I'm sorry I didn't look at things from your perspective. I'm sorry I can't forgive you for what you did to me and I'm sorry I probably never will because that's just how I am. I'm sorry I'm so awful and I'm sorry you decided to help me. You shouldn't have. You should have just helped Lance and left me to die but you didn't and I'm sorry I never thanked you for that. I'm sorry I never thanked you for anything."

Shiro sighed, taking a moment to ready himself. "I'm sorry we both suck so much. I'm sorry I hurt you," he said, bringing his hands back and clasping them together behind him. "But I know sorry doesn't cut it. It's payback time, Lotor. Fuck the truce for a second and punch the shit out of me. I deserve it."

And Lotor- he wanted to be better than that. He wanted to smile and say it wasn't an issue, that he understood, whatever, but he couldn't. He took two steps forward and swung his fist fast, making a quick and painful collision with Shiro's cheek- only to then swing his leg in a sharp round kick, catching Shiro in the other side of his face. He settled back on two feet and rubbed his bruised knuckles.

Content.

Shiro has prepared himself enough for the first hit, only letting his knees buckle and hit the ground with nothing but a sharp gasp of pain. The heat only had just begun to spread and about his cheek when Lotor had delivered his kick. His head was whipped to the side, and he slumped backwards, head knocking onto the sidewalk with a heavy thwack. Shiro groaned, his vision a bit blurry, and tinted with a gentle shade of red. He lifted a shaky hand to his head, bringing it back to look at all of the blood smeared about his fingers. He gave a soft huff of laughter, and pushed up on his elbows, eyes still fluttering.

Shiro didn't really think Lotor would have done it.

"Look, Shiro, I forgive you for that shit. I forgave you when you said half the shit you did. I forgave you when you told me my design was inefficient and pointed out the flaws and I didn't care when you sent Lance after me until he brought up my father. Until you brought up my father again." He took a slight step back, folding his arms over his chest. "After everything I have done, do I deserve the constant reminders? Do I deserve to hear his name and think of every single thing he'd done? He cut you up, he beat you, yes, but he had a reason then. If anyone can tell me what reason he had to kick a child, aged nine, to the floor after a bad day- I'd love to hear it."

He brushed some of his hair behind his ear, gritting his teeth a little.

"Look, I can move past all of this. I can forgive you with a couple bruises on your face. But first, Shiro, tell me about what your relationship with your parents was like. You don't show symptoms of being an abuse survivor, so I'm assuming that your parents didn't physically or emotionally abuse you. Tell me what it was like to come home from school when you were twelve."

 

He didn't give any reason for his question. Hell, it seemed like a request that was just fucking weird. Why should it matter to Lotor what he had done when getting back from school?

Not seeming to realise how weird of a question it was, Lotor took a cigarette from the box in his pocket and a lighter. It was black and lavender, engraved with an odd symbol that had been thrown around the Galra mafia in a few places. For someone who hated the Galra, it was weird to see him using a lighter with the Galra logo on it. Regardless, he flicked on the lighter, igniting his cigarette and bringing it to his lips as he returned the lighter to its pocket. Streams of smoke spilled from his lips as he brought it away again. It didn't give off the sweet scent of weed that Shiro was used to; instead it had the pungent scent of tobacco and it poisoned Lotor's lungs but the relief it brought, taking away cravings, made it worth the consequences.

Shiro stayed on the ground, looking up at him. Blood painted both sides of his face, each gash throbbing with the beat of his heart, spilling that deep red of pain all the way down his cheeks and about his jaw. It made his head feel light. Shiro didn't lift a hand to wipe it away. He just watched Lotor puff on his cigarette, suddenly wishing he had one of his own.

"They didn't," he said quietly, swallowing hard. The mention of his parents made him uncomfortable, but he had no choice but to answer... at least it seemed that way. "Not at first, I don't think. We weren't really close. They pushed me for good grades, and every now and then I'd get a ruler to the knuckles or something, but nothing too bad. Not until I was outed." Shiro swallowed again, blinking a little. His vision was just about back to normal. "After highschool one of my cousins found out I was dating Adam and told my parents. They freaked. Threw me out on the streets and told me to die. Haven't spoken to them since."

Shiro finally gave in, lifting a hand to wipe at his face — dragging the back of his hand across his cheek. It did nothing but smear, really. Shiro shook his head a little, and put his hand back down on the sidewalk.

"Whatever. It's nothing compared to what you had to go through, I'm sure," he sighed bleakly.

"Yeah," Lotor mumbled. "You don't know exactly how bad it is until it finally hits you that other people aren't immune to snuffing out cigarettes on their arms. My father smoked- the smell is what I grew up with, so I tried it as soon as I could get ahold of one. I stole it from my father- age... I think I was fourteen. Smoked it until it was an ashy stump in my hand, sitting on the window ledge so he wouldn't pick up the smell in my room. I threw the stump- too small to be noticeable from the second floor window- and went inside. The smell was on my clothes, my breath, and I was clueless. He came home, asked me about a missing cigarette that he could already smell from the second he had walked in. He had a cigarette in his hand. It was lit."

He tugged up his sleeve, showing a large burn at the top of his forearm, on the inside. By his elbow.

"That was for stealing a cigarette from him," he mumbled, turning his arm over to show a large scar- jagged and uneven. "That was for lying about it."

He took another long drag from his cigarette and let out a soft sigh. "Not that it matters. I was put through so much that it doesn't faze me anymore. And then, when Allura heard the rumours Romelle told her, she-" he laughed a little. "She threw me. Right across the room, like I weighed nothing. Knocked me out, too."

Shiro listened solemnly, nodding a little as he went on. The gash from Lotor's knuckles had stopped bleeding, for the most part, but the one from the sharp toe of his shoe hadn't— instead it dribbled profusely down his face and onto the collar of his jacket. His eyes had been on the ground, stationed there both politely, and out of his own awkwardness. It took Shiro a few moments to respond, his hands — the bloody skin of his human hand and the cool metal of the prosthetic — wringing together in front of him.

"Rumours?" Shiro asked quietly, still not meeting Lotor's gaze. "You guys seem so close... what rumours could be so bad to..." he hesitated a bit, losing his words as he waited. Lotor smiled.

"You'd be surprised. Romelle came from a smaller faction of the mafia that had been attacked. Only the mafia members were hurt, though the attack pattern seemed random to anyone who didn't know. It was... it was devastating. Fifty dead in two days. Romelle told Allura of the news and, of course, it was only a week since Allura and I had started dating. We barely knew each other so it- it was suspiciously poorly timed. Romelle said that I'd been snitching, that I was still working under Zarkon. It took me days to get her to talk to me again."

He glanced around. "You ought to head back. It's getting late and they'll be missing you. I'll be in the lab if you need me, as I said I'd be. I just need to work to calm myself down. Pass on the message that I'm sorry for how I acted."

Shiro looked at him, brow a little furrowed. He wanted to ask if Allura knew he was innocent or not... but he held his tongue. Lotor was right. It was late. The others would be wondering where he went — he'd been gone for more time than it would take to simply use the bathroom. Shiro looked down at himself, his whole outfit speckled with blood, and grimaced. He didn't quite want to go back to dinner looking like that. If he didn't care so much about Lance's worrying about him, he would have just joined Lotor in going back to the hotel.

He sighed, and pushed up to his feet. He stumbled a little, mind whirling a bit as the stood up, but everything settled, and he became stable again. Shiro looked up at Lotor, a hand on his face, prodding at the ache that began to fester beneath the easing numbness of shock. "Okay," he said quietly. "Sorry. Again. For everything."

Shiro mustered up a smile, and rose his shoulders a bit. "That was a good punch," he muttered with a weak laugh. "And, uh, a good kick, too. Caught me off guard with that one."

"Yeah," Lotor said with a smile. He showed his busted knuckles. "Sendak taught me to punch. Well- You know what he's like. He told me how I was supposed to punch and immediately started to fight, so I had to figure it out or get knocked unconscious. The kicking is something I've figured out from one of my old friends, Ezor. Some of the girls in the mafia were close and all of them kicked ass."

He moved back a little. "Sorry for fucking up your suit with blood. I'll get Coran to clean it off later, he knows how to get blood out of things. I'll- I'll see you, I guess."

Shiro nodded a little. "See you," he echoed, eyes thrown back onto the ground. "Don't worry about the blood. I'm used to it. I just don't know how Lance will react." He gave a dismal huff at the thought, shaking his head a little. "He's gonna kill me," was his added mutter as he turned around, tone a bit more worried than his earlier joking.

They split without another word. Shiro crept his way throughout the streets, much more cautious without an objective plaguing his common thought. He kept close to corners, head ducked and enclosed with the shadows of the night. Despite all of this, however, he had slipped into the bar to use their bathroom along the way — washing some of the crusted blood off of his swelling face. He purchased a single shot, downed it, and went back out into the night — wondering just what he was going to say to Lance.

The valet boy gave him an odd look when he finally made his weary way to the restaurant, and stared at him with a rather horrified gape when he asked in his slurring tone if the car was still there. The boy nodded, and Shiro sighed, relieved. He gave the kid a pat on the shoulder, and stumbled his way back inside of the restaurant. When he laid his eyes on the table, Lance, Allura, and Romelle had all been talking in a friendly, comforted manner, though Lance looking a bit pale for Shiro's liking. The food had already been delivered, each plate already half finished aside from his cooling one. Shiro gave a sigh, wishing he had another shot. He took a moment or so to prepare himself for questions, before approaching the table with a wan smile.

"Sorry. The, uh, bathroom took a little longer than I thought," he said, interrupting the conversation as he slid into the booth. He sat on the outside of Lance, reaching over him to grab his plate as though it had been nothing. "What did I miss?"

Suddenly, as if all the abuse Shiro had had previously wasn't enough, Lance slapped Shiro. Hard.

"What the hell was that?!" he asked, gritting his teeth. "What the fuck was all of that, Shiro?! You just- You can't-" he took a breath. "You can't disappear for forty minutes because you 'needed the bathroom' and expect me not to worry! And- And you come back with a bruised face and blood on your shirt and-" he wrapped his arms tightly around Shiro. "What happened?"

 

Allura and Romelle were both focusing on the situation before them but they were staying silent, deciding it was best not to interrupt. This was an issue between Shiro and Lance- albeit one that they both wanted to hear.

Shiro's face stung — the sharpness of Lance's slap still lingering about the already raw, bruised, and cut up skin. He had lifted a hand up to his face while Lance yelled, hoping the gash hadn't opened back up again with the impact. He had flinched rather mightily when Lance had launched forwards to hug him, expecting more pain, but then found himself tense and guilty as Lance's arms wrapped about his chest. Shiro hesitated a moment, but then he offered his own, meager half-hug.

"I'm sorry, Lance," he murmured. "I had to go do something. I..." Shiro trailed off, eyes flicking to Allura and Romelle. He held his tongue a moment, wondering just what he could say without making Lotor look too bad. "I had to go. It was nothing. I'll try to tell you later just... I'm just sorry it took so long."

Lance pulled back after only a moment or so. He then moved away.  
"You better have a good reason," he mumbled as he took his fork, beginning to eat again. "I was worried, you dick."

Allura cleared her throat a little. "Though, now that you're back, there's nothing to worry about anymore. Right?"

"Right," he said with a nod. Shiro thought of Lotor's request — to pass on the message of his apology, or something of the sort. Shiro thought about saying something... but again he figured silence was better. Allura was too quick. Lance was too smart. They'd both know he'd seen Lotor on his fun little excursion, and then they'd both know it was Lotor who gave him the bruises. Shiro didn't think they'd give him time to explain in such an atmosphere... it was best for Lotor to keep silent. Instead, he echoed himself, feeling a little distant as he dragged his fork round his cold plate. "Right."

The rest of dinner was awkward. Of course it was. Conversation was rare, and when it would occur, it was strained — and Shiro certainly didn't participate in any of it either. Lance sat close to him, making Shiro frown whenever he'd lift a hand to touch and inspect the wounds scattered about his face. The side he had slapped was a few obvious shades redder than the other, and tingled with the ghost of Lance's hand. He didn't care though. He deserved it.

They finished, paid, and went back to the apartment building. The drive was long and quiet, but somehow, the elevator ride up to the room was even longer, and more stiff with silence. It was just Shiro and Lance, the other two girls retired to their own rooms. The elevator moved impossibly slow. Each floor chirped out its own solemn ding. Shiro just waited.

Finally, the elevator jolted, and the doors slid open. Shiro didn't move, though. He watched Lance start to move, and then look back to him with a confused sort of stare when Shiro remained stock still. Slowly, he reached his hand out to stop the doors from closing, and began to apologize. Again.

"I'm sorry I ruined dinner," he said simply. "I'm also sorry I ran off. I had to go talk to Lotor. I couldn't say earlier because then Allura would think he hit me."

Shiro paused, hesitating before he went on. "I mean, he did but it's okay. I told him to."

"You told him to?!" Lance asked, looking up at him. "Are you serious? Wh-Why? I mean- I-" he rubbed his eyes. "Never mind. Don't bother. I don't care. Let's just go get you patched up and you can tell me what happened while you two were talking."

They left the elevator, continued onto their hotel room, and then finally settled down on the couch. Shiro slipped off his jacket and his bloodstained shirt, sitting on the sofa as Lance stood over him — cleaning up all of the crusted blood he hadn't gotten at the bar, and placing small bandages over the two painful gashes. The one from Lotor's foot still bled a little. Shiro muttered that he might have needed stitches from Coran when Lance said something about it, but nothing more.

As Lance worked, Shiro got around to starting his explanation. He told Lance of his realization at the dinner table — about how he figured Lotor was feeling the same way he had when Lance mentioned Adam in their past argument. He explained to Lance that the only way to make amends with a relationship as twisted and mangled as the one he had with Lotor was with violence.

"He needed to hit me," Shiro had said. "So I went after him — caught him just a few blocks away from the hotel, and apologized. Told him to punch the shit out of me. He listened. Kicked me while I was down, too." Shiro grinned a little at the thought. "He liked it. I could tell. I think he probably wanted to kick me again. Maybe in my stomach or something."

Shiro sighed, and explained on. What they said, how they said it, what they left off with. Shiro told Lance everything down to him stopping at the bar. He skipped the bit about the shot, though, only including how he washed off his face. Shiro didn't think it would help his case.

"Today was going perfect and I fucked it up," he said in conclusion, looking down at his legs. Shiro's hand trailed over some of the marks across his chest, remembering that morning with a loving sort of sorrow. "Kinda seeing the pattern, huh? Whatever. I'll try to keep fixing things with him, I guess. If not for me, or for him, then for you... I noticed the way you let go of my hand at the restaurant. I get it." Shiro gave a sad laugh, shaking his head a little. "I'll keep trying..."

"Let's talk about something else," Lance mumbled as he pressed a kiss to Shiro's forehead. "Or just go to bed. I'm tired." He took Shiro's hand, beginning to the bedroom. He didn't want to address what had happened between Shiro and Lotor. He'd wanted to know about it- of course he did! He's Shiro's boyfriend!- but he didn't want to be involved if it didn't involve him and, funnily enough, it didn't. So, instead of being involved and getting personal with it, he just decided it was better for the two of them to sleep.

He needed the rest and god knows that Shiro deserved it after the hell he has been through today. 

As he'd said, though, their day had been going perfect. If Shiro hadn't started being so rude to Lotor, perhaps it would have stayed that way.

Though to look in Lotor's eyes whenever he saw Romelle and Allura being affectionate or whenever he looked at Shiro in general... he wouldn't have been able to sit there and endure it for long.

Shiro noticed Lance not-so-subtle dodging of the topic with both rejoice and remorse heavy about his system. He was tired... it had been a long day — sleep sounded absolutely wonderful, and he didn't really want to think about Lotor or Zarkon or Lance's disappointment in him any more. Though... oh, how Shiro wanted to talk. Wanted to piece through everything — tearing each and every fragment of each and every event to better understand the characters of both Lotor and himself. And to do so with Lance, despite the fear of showing Lance something he didn't want to see, sounded even better. Easier... almost...

But Lance pulled him to bed, and settled down on his side. The slight gap between them was achingly present — the air almost a painful sort of cold. Shiro wanted to roll over on his side and pull Lance into him... but he felt a bit too guilty. Instead, he laid on his back, watching the ceiling, too thoughtful to just sleep right away.

"Are you upset with me?" Shiro asked into a quiet room, not even knowing if Lance was still awake. "You could hit me again if you are. Better yet go make me sleep on the couch. Whatever. I deserve it."

Lance looked up at him, rolling onto his side.

"Shiro, shut up," he said softly. "Of course I'm upset at you, but you're going to be sleeping here. Pushing you away and refusing to see you won't help me," he said softly, reaching up and running one hand through his hair. "Please, don't argue with me. Don't try and push yourself away. I can see your thoughts turning and you're worrying. Please, babe, just go to sleep."

He didn't want to deal with this right now. If Shiro let himself start thinking he deserved anything mentioned, he'd lose himself in some depressing spiral of self-loathing. Sighing a little, he shifted over and wrapped his arms around Shiro. "Come on..." he mumbled. "You need sleep."

"I'm not worrying," Shiro murmured with a soft shrug. He leaned closer to Lance, thankful of his warmth, and let his thoughts roll from his tongue. "Lance, it's just... for years now I've just been doing whatever I wanted without any sort of... punishment. If I wanted to steal something, I'd do it. If I wanted to hurt someone, I'd do it. If I wanted someone dead..." Shiro trailed off, a guilty shiver shooting down his spine. "You get the drift. But I'd get away with so much shit, and no one could ever touch me. And it stayed like that for years. It's about time I start getting the consequences to my actions, don't you think? I'm no better than anyone else. In fact, I'm worse." 

He sighed, pressing into Lance, closing his eyes. "That might be what all of this is about. Am I subconsciously looking for punishment? Or do I just forget that punishments exist because I was so high and fucking mighty?" he rambled weakly, the thoughts he verbalized all new and all strange to him. "Whatever. I'm facing the music now. I'll be Lotor's punching bag. I'll let you push me away. I'm not... I'm not the untouchable Kuro anymore, Lance. I'm... I'm Shiro. I'm Takashi. As happy as the idea makes me... it means I have to man up and pay for the things I do."

"I don't know if this makes sense," Shiro muttered after a brief pause. "I don't know if you care or not. I know you want to sleep. And we can... I just... wanted to say that, I guess. Hear it out loud."

Lance pulled him in for a gentle kiss, smiling a little.

"Shiro, you've already done so much. You've been patient and cautious and I can see you thinking before you act most of the time. Trust me, if you fuck up like this again, I won't hesitate to kick you out of the bedroom and not speak to you for the following forty-eight hours, but I can let it slide. Just this once, okay? If you want some kind of disciplinary system set in place to stop you from being Kuro again, then I'll put one in place. I love you, Shiro. I love you and I'm going to look after you."

He sighed, wrapping Shiro's arms around himself as he settled into his arms, nestling into his neck. "Now shut up, dummy, and go to sleep. I'm exhausted."

Shiro smiled, eyes still closed and face still pressed up against Lance's chest. "I love you too," he said quietly, heart a little warmer than before. "I'll fix myself, Lance. I promise, I will..."

He moved his arm over, draping it over Lance's shoulder and holding it tightly in a tired sort of hug. He let his muscles fall slack, but still held him there in the crook of his arm. "Goodnight, Lance," he murmured in a half-whisper.

Shiro fell asleep not feeling good but... not feeling bad either...


	27. In Sickness And In Health

Lance let out a loud groan as he stirred. He was so close to Shiro and he hadn’t been able to move away all night. Their legs were tangled up and Shiro was warm, but so was the room and the blanket and the dog that had, at some point, come to sleep on his chest. He could barely breathe, was too warm, and was experiencing such strong discomfort that it finally convinced him to roll onto his side. Now facing away from Shiro and having tipped the dog off of him, Lance was much more comfortable. He couldn’t remove Shiro’s hold on him, irritably, so he had no other choice but to stay in his arms while Blue began to whine and let out tired growls at having been moved so suddenly. Raising one hand to pet her, mumbling a tired apology, Lance hoped that his moving had woken Shiro up. 

He was too tired to yell for the other to wake up or to try to disturb him. Shiro was a surprisingly heavy sleeper.

It was about ten minutes after Lance when Shiro had finally woken up. It wasn’t entirely because of Lance, of course, but Lance’s stirring about and Blue’s pouting growls must have had something to do with it. He fluttered his eyes open, and, after his senses woke up completely, uttered a low groan. Shiro pulled his arm from Lance’s shoulder, and placed it up on his aching face. He moved his prosthetic there too, the slight chill of the steel feeling just about heavenly on his swollen bruises. Shiro rolled away from Lance so he laid on his back, bleakly massaging and prodding his injuries. 

“My face hurts,” he whined. Shiro pushed up into a sit, frowning to himself. He turned to Lance, and pulled his hands away. “Does it look bad? Please tell me it’s not that bad.”

Lance rolled over, shifting back a little to escape the overwhelming heat. He already felt a lot better, though, but he needed to open a window.  
“It… yeah, it looks bad. Only a little makeup will cover it up, though, so don’t worry.” He offered a sympathetic smile, leaning in and pressing his lips to Shiro’s. “Ugh, I feel so… tired. I just slept! Why am I so exhausted…” He turned to look at him, pressing into Shiro’s neck. “And I feel really hot, too.”

Shiro took hand from his face to feel the back of Lance’s neck, brow a bit furrowed. “You are kinda warm, I guess,” he said quietly, voice a bit more serious than his dramatic whining from before. Shiro put his hands on Lance’s shoulders and pushed him back a bit, trying to get a good look at his face. He looked a little pale… his eyes a little darker and hazy. The back of his hand went to Lance’s forehead. “Shit, Lance. You’re really hot… I think you have a fever…” Nervously, Shiro brought both hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks. “Did you eat something bad last night? Did you feel sick last night? How are you feeling now? Are you gonna throw up?” His questions were quicker. Hastier. A bit more panicked, per say.   
“No, no, I was fine last night. Everything was fine. Allura had the same thing I did- see if she’s sick. Make sure that she isn’t sick. If she is, it’ll be food poisoning or something and we’ll know,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

He rolled back slightly.  
“I don’t… I don’t feel like I’ll be sick. Should I go to the bathroom in case?” he asked, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “God, I don’t even want to move…” he rolled onto his side again and planted his face into his chest. 

He closed his eyes, letting out a tired whimper as he wrapped his arms tighter around his waist.

Shiro looked down at him, features a bit scrunched up with worry. Lance sounded out of it — completely out of his. His tone was drawled and slurred, weak and scratchy. The more Shiro would touch his face or his neck or his arms, the more he’d realize the boiling state of Lance’s skin. Frowning, Shiro shook his head a little. 

“No… just… just lay down,” he said quietly, placing a tentative hand on Lance’s back. “Just lay back down and get some rest, okay? I’ll get you a bucket and some water or… or…” Shiro trailed off, trying to think of what he could do. He hadn’t had a fever in years… and he hadn’t been around someone else who had one in even longer than that. Shiro racked his brain, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Ice cubes,” he finally blurted. “Ice cubes instead of water. That would be better… I… I’ll be right back. Just get into bed, okay?” 

With that, and a soft squeeze to Lance, Shiro slipped away from his grasp, and made his hurried way into the kitchen. A large mop bucket he found in the closet by the door, and a cup of ice cubes later, Shiro found himself at the side of the bed, looking over the shivering, hazy Lance. Shiro placed the cup down on the bedside table, and left the bucket down at his feet. 

He leaned over a little, pressing a hand to the side of Lance’s face. Still hot. Maybe hotter. Shiro’s frown deepened. 

“Ice cubes are next to you. Bucket is right here,” Shiro said gently. “I… I think I should go get Allura… or would Coran be better? Shit. Maybe I’ll get them both. Just… are you gonna be okay? Do you want me to stay? You’re not gonna, like, die or anything, right?” That last bit had been a rather anxious exaggeration, and Shiro could tell the instant the worried stutter had left his lips, but he didn’t dismiss it really. Hey, what did he know? Lance could have been dying.

Shiro tensed at the thought. He shook his head. Stop that. He’s not dying. The chill still clung to the flesh of his back, despite his minds stable reassuring.

Lance smiled a little, mumbling his thanks before taking ahold of one of the ice cubes and placing it into his mouth. He took a shirt- a tank top, one of Shiro’s- and wrapped the ice cubes in it as it was the closest thing to him. He lay back and placed it on his forehead, closing his eyes. It felt immediately better, having the cold combatting the symptoms his body was exhibiting.

His eyes settled on Shiro and he nodded at the thought of getting someone to help. Allura would be able to get him some medicine, so that would make him feel a lot better and he’d probably be over his cold within a few days. The sooner he started taking the medicine, the better he would feel.

Shiro stood with him a few moments, feeling a bit too nervous to part — to leave Lance in that lonely bed in that lonely room in that lonely apartment for so long. After he had gathered his courage, Shiro leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Lance’s warm temple, telling him he’d be right back. 

Shiro left in a hurry, pulling on a random shirt he had flung about the floor before he made his way. He realized during his impatient ride in the elevator it had been one of his nerdier shirts — the one that showed a detailed blueprint of one of the spaceships from one of his favorite old movies. Shiro bit back his pride, though, and continued on with haste when the elevator doors opened up to the lobby. He was ripping at the sleeve so his shoulder would fit properly when he pushed into the lab, Coran’s name already leaving his lips as he ran his eyes about the nearly deserted room. 

Shiro stopped short at the doorway, his voice leaving him. There was no sign of Coran — no warm smile, no ginger hair, no cherry greeting in that fun accent the man sported. The only greeting Shiro was given was a dull look from Lotor, who had peered at him over his shoulder from the computer. Shiro stood a bit speechless, head cocked in a nervous shock at the empty lab. 

“L...Lotor?” he said, blinking a little. A heavy awkwardness settled about the room. Shiro swallowed, and looked down, the throbbing swell of his face a little bit more apparent than before. He hoped it didn’t look too pathetic. “Where’s Coran? I need him. There’s something wrong with Lance…”

Lotor stood, closing his laptop.  
“Something wrong?” he echoed. “What do you mean? Medically?” he began approaching. “There’s a medical kit in each of the rooms, please lead the way.” Concern was already clear in his voice, and even if he hadn’t gotten too close to Lance personally, he was still worrying for his safety and he didn’t like how panicked Shiro seemed. The male was paler than usual, too, so whatever it was seemed to be severe.

He had yet to realise, of course, that it was nothing but a common cold that he’d been unlucky enough to pick up. Poor Shiro, freaking out over nothing, and dragging Lotor down with him. 

“Is Coran not here?” Shiro asked weakly, but he began out the door anyways, graciously taking up Lotor’s offer of help. They had just gotten into the elevator — the doors closing in their slow, grinding fashion, when Shiro spoke up again, painfully aware of how nervous he sounded. 

“I don’t know anything about being sick or… or whatever. He’s got a fever, I know that for sure. I don’t know if he threw up or not. I don’t know where he got it or anything… maybe it’s food poisoning? Is Allura okay? She ate the same thing he did…”  
“Allura is fine. She and Coran went out a few hours ago, along with Romelle. They didn’t tell me why.”

Shiro, despite Lotor’s answer, continued to ramble on. He couldn’t quite care how tense the atmosphere of the elevator had become with the two standing side by side. His mind was focused on Lance and Lance alone — he only dully recognized the uncomfortable posture from Lotor, and the own subconscious prodding of his injuries from himself. It wasn’t time to focus on their shit.   
“Is that all that’s the issue with him?” Lotor eventually asked, finally breaking the tense silence. “Only a fever? No dizziness, vomiting, shaking, inabilities to speak? It’s likely that he only has a cold, Shiro, you shouldn’t worry so much.”

When their floor came and the lift doors dinged, opening, Lotor strode out. He’d taken the card from Shiro while he’d been panicking and opened the door, letting Shiro in. He handed him the card again. “Check on him while I get the first aid kit and medicine kit. Make sure he hasn’t thrown up.”

And, luckily for Shiro, he hadn’t. He was just lying there, seeming dazed and tired, the same ice cube still in his mouth. His eyes turned to the doorway at the sound of the voices and he smiled slightly, glad that Shiro had found someone and happy to have him back so soon.  
“Shiro,” he called out in a weak voice, his throat dry and hoarse. “C-Come here.”

Shiro entered the room quickly, stopping at the side of the bed, and kneeling down so his own eyes had been level with Lance’s. His hands were on Lance’s warm face again, his thumb running gentle circles around the flushed, burning skin. “Hey Lance,” he said gently. “I couldn’t find Coran. Lotor is here instead… I don’t know if that’s better or… or worse but… it’s something, right?” Shiro moved one hand up to Lance’s hair, combing it back from his forehead. “How are you feeling? Better?” 

Lance smiled tiredly and took Shiro’s hand gently, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.  
“It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m fine, just a little tired and really warm…” he smiled, about to speak again when Lotor entered. He checked Lance’s temperature, pressing the back of his hand to Lance’s forehead. After a short exchange of questions about Lance’s current condition, Lotor decided that it was nothing but a cold.

He opened the small box of medicine and took out a bottle of cold medicine. He helped Lance to sit up and poured out a 25ml spoonful. He gave Lance three of them before setting down the medicine and the spoon on the bedside table.

“Shiro, he’ll be fine. Colds like these only last a few days. Give him three spoonfuls three times a day and make sure that he gets plenty of sleep, but you should leave him to rest. Your worrying will make it difficult.”

Lotor scribbled down his phone number beside a phone in the hotel room, turning to Lance, who had now settled down in bed again. “If you need anything, call me on this number. I’ll let Shiro know.”

Lance nodded tiredly, bringing the blanket up to his neck and placing another ice cube into his mouth. Lotor turned to Shiro.  
“Are you happy now?”

Shiro had been wringing his hands together. He had watched Lotor and Lance talk to one another a bit nervously from the side, pacing back and forth a little, trying hard to listen in. When Lotor addressed him, finished with his business, Shiro opened his mouth and found he had lacked his voice. He looked back to Lance, who seemed to be falling back to sleep, and fumbled with his hands some more. Shiro shook his head a little, and turned his attention back to Lotor. 

“Well, I’m not happy,” he said weakly, chewing on that raw spot in his mouth. “But… I mean as long as it’s only a cold, then… I guess it’s fine then...” 

There were only a few moments where Shiro could hold his tongue. After they had passed, he succumbed to his questions -- each and everyone hurriedly leaving his nervously pouting lips as easily as anything. 

“Where did he catch it? Do you think it’s contagious? I… is he really going to be like this for a few days?” Shiro’s voice had been lowered a bit, in hopes to keep Lance from hearing. “Are you sure he’s okay? How can someone just… just get a cold like that? He was fine last night…”  
“I don’t know, it’s likely contagious, yes. Yes, I’m sure, there are a variety of reasons. Now stop questioning me, and let’s leave Lance to sleep. Bring the pets, too, we can’t leave them with him in case they wake him up.”

Lotor stood, turning and beginning to walk away, wanting to leave. “Come on,” he said to Shiro. “I can have Allura take you out somewhere. Okay?”

Shiro frowned, not liking the idea of leaving Lance all alone at all. He stood still a moment, juggling his options in his head, before leaning down and placing a parting kiss to Lance’s forehead. He whispered a soft apology, knowing Lance was probably a bit too out of it to understand, and leaned up. Shiro then followed Lotor out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. He went into the kitchen, pulled out a can of cat food, and called gently for Black, who came slinking to him from her curled up spot on the couch. Once Black had hopped up onto the counter, and Shiro had given her a few good pets on the head, he looked up to Lotor. 

“Black won’t be a problem. She can stay. She’ll only sleep,” he said, leaving the counter, turning his gaze about the apartment in a scouring search for one of Blue’s leashes. He found one by the couch, leaned over, and scooped it up, the rattling of the metal linked clip gaining the previously dozing dog’s attention. She leapt up and trotted over to him. “Blue… Blue will be a problem. I’ll take her, I guess.” 

When Shiro looked back up, Lotor was at the already open door, leaning against the doorframe with an impatient look on his face. Shiro almost became angry at him for such a stare… but he was too worried. Too tired. Instead, Shiro dismissed Lotor’s watchful glare, and stopped by the kitchen to grab another bottle of Ibuprofen. He took four rounded tablets for his face and arm (he had left his prescribed medication in the bedroom…) and stuffed it into the pocket of his pants. They were the same pants he had worn the night before -- but Shiro didn't care too much. It didn't seem worth going back into the bedroom. 

Finally, Shiro left the apartment room, Lotor holding the door for him, and shutting it when both had left it. Shiro noticed the way Blue brightened at the sight of Lotor, pulling on her leash so she could sniff at his ankles and even jump up to get a good scratching on her head. Shiro tugged her a little when she jumped, though, apologizing gruffly for the dustier paw print on Lotor’s jeans. It… it had been a while since Blue had a bath…

They rode the elevator, alone together again. Shiro chewed on his cheek. He felt the tension that time. He felt it -- and the feeling was quite relentless. Shiro tried to ignore it, reaching down to rub at Blue’s head to distract himself. 

“How long until Allura and Coran get back?” Shiro asked just as the elevator jolted to its stop and the doors began their growling open. Blue tried to lunge out -- bounding forward with all her might. Shiro had to tug hard with his one arm to keep her from dragging her along with him. He looked down at his prosthetic, and wondered with a dismal humor that if it had been that hand holding the leash, it could have just flown away with it. He shook his head a little, wrapping the leash around his very tired human wrist once or twice more to keep his grasp secure as the two strolled out. “They, uh, probably didn't tell you, though, right?” 

Lotor shook his head.  
“No, they didn’t. After the ordeal last night, Allura hasn’t been speaking to me much. She sent Coran in to tell me that she was leaving.” He glanced at the mark on his leg. “We should give Blue a bath,” he muttered. “Now. She smells and she’s dirty,” he muttered, beginning out of the elevator.

They were on the third floor now and Lotor brought Shiro through to another room- his room. He moved to the bathroom and took the shower head down. “Bring her through here!” He called. “And we can go get a drink after this, if you’d like.”

He checked the temperature of the shower and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Blue, having been let off of her leash, came bolting through and leapt into the bathtub. Evidently, Lance had taught her that baths were good (somehow), or she had just gotten tired of being so dirty. So Lotor began to run his fingers through her hair as he washed her off with the shower.

Shiro watched from the doorway, uncoiling the leash from his wrist as he watched Lotor comb his fingers through Blue’s wet fur. He hadn’t had a lot of time to get a good glimpse of Lotor’s apartment, and his curiosity pulled and prodded at his skin. Shiro was simply itching to turn about and explore… but he figured it wouldn’t be the time. The bathroom was enough for just then -- the sparkling clean, neatly organized bathroom with its shelves heavily stocked with beauty products of all kinds, and its sinks packed with makeup bags. Shiro suddenly found himself dying to rifle through one… 

But he figured against it again, and instead moved his tentative way forward to stand beside him. Shiro didn't crouch down to help right away, and instead, thought of a response.   
“You… you want to get a drink?” Shiro asked, disbelief pitching his voice. “With me? You want to get a drink with me? Are you sure about that?” 

He paused a second, and sank down to his knees beside the tub, eyes focused hard on the happy dog before them and not Lotor’s flitting glance. “I mean, I’m down and everything,” he muttered with a shrug. “If, uh, you’re down.” 

Lotor nodded, running his fingers through her fur and pressing a kiss to the top of Blue’s head.  
“Yeah, definitely,” he said as he continued rinsing her clean. He didn’t have any shampoo for dogs so he’d just have to leave it at washing her. “I mean, after yesterday you’ve grown on me. Not totally, so don’t flatter yourself, but I’d like to get a drink.”

He stood shortly, turning off the shower and immediately having Blue shake off all the excess water- all over Lotor. He grimaced at his newly-ruined outfit and went to his wardrobe in his room to find something else to wear.

He had… an excessive amount of clothes. Outfit after outfit of various colours- all with a cool tone- and all of which paired with shoes or hats or sunglasses or whatever suited them best. Lotor took out a blue sweater with a purple t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. Some lavender sneakers accompanied them.  
“I’m going to get changed, thanks to the dog ruining my outfit. Are you going to get changed before going out, or will you be leaving in… sweatpants?”

Shiro looked down at himself, and cocked his head a little. He had to admit he outfit was rather… lacking. And on top of his sloppiness, it had gotten all speckled up with Blue’s bathwater as well. “I should but, uh, I mean all my clothes are in the bedroom with Lance,” he muttered, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “This will be fine I guess… are we leaving now? A little early for a drink, right? Not that I’m judging. Hell, I start drinking early all the time.” He gave a little laugh at that, as though morning drinking was something to be proud of. 

He stood at the doorway of Lotor’s bedroom, watching as the man rifled through his wardrobe for an outfit. He tired to be discreet in that observing stare he dragged about Lotor’s room, catching everything with his excited curiosity. To his slight disappointment, the room was rather simple. It screamed straightforwardness, each and every thing in its perfectly proper place. The walls were bare. The floors were bare. Both were colored a different shade of rather boring white, which matched the color of his ivory furniture and bedspread. It almost looked as if someone had bleached a normal bedroom of its real color, the only exception being a few colored decals on his comforter and on the bedpost. Shiro offered a slight frown as he looked about, a little unimpressed. How could someone live and sleep in such a bore? 

Lotor didn’t seem to mind it. He didn’t need dramatic things or excessive amounts of colour. In fact, just the accents of varnished natural wood were enough for him. His room growing up had been bland- black and white, no exceptions- and his room now was bland. Although then it was his father’s choice and hatred for immaturity. Now, it was because he needed to have everything organised in case an emergency came up.

Better not to get too comfy, no matter where he was.

He dug around a little and took out a shirt that was half a size too big for him, holding it out for Shiro.  
“Wear this, and I’m sure I can find some pants your size.”

Shiro’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh, shit man, you don’t have to do that,” he muttered. He watched Lotor’s simple shake of his head though, and required no more convincing. Shiro leaned forward, took the shirt from Lotor’s hand with a quiet thanks, and began pulling off his own shirt. 

Shiro didn't realize he might have made it weird until he caught Lotor’s judging glance from where he was crouched by the dresser. Shiro blushed a little, turned around, and pulled the shirt over his head. It was a little tight -- just tight enough the outline of his muscles were a bit too apparent for his liking through the stretched fabric. Lotor had given him a plain white tank top, one that easily slid over the metal attachment of his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to rip anything to fit. Shiro turned back around, spotting a long mirror hanging on the inside of Lotor’s door, and wandering over to look at himself. After a few moments of that, and the slight worry he’d probably get cold with just a simple tank top in the chilly Autumn air of New York City, Shiro shrugged and turned around. 

“Where are we going? Are they gonna let Blue in?” he asked, playing with the hem of his… Lotor’s shirt. 

Shiro suddenly wondered what his past self would think of him standing in Lotor’s bedroom, wearing and fiddling with one of Lotor’s shirts, getting ready to go get a drink with Lotor. A sick feeling started to numb his gut, and Shiro let go of the shirt, turning his suddenly very pale face to look at the floor. It was the first time that day he remembered just why things had been so strange between them, the thought grabbing hold of his conscious with its piercing claws without the impression of letting go. 

Think of Lance, Shiro. 

Shiro gave a soft sigh to himself, and did just that. Think of Lance. Think of what Lotor did for Lance. Not Adam… not right now... 

Lotor looked back at him, frowning.  
“Shiro, are you… Are you okay? You seem upset. You’re not sick too, are you?” he asked as he approached, letting the back of his hand rest on Shiro’s forehead for a moment. “No temperature- is everything okay?”

Shiro shook his head a little, pulling away. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, swallowing. “I… I uh… I just get migraines sometimes.” Not quite a lie… but not quite the truth either. Shiro offered a wan smile, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “It’s nothing. It’ll pass… it always does…”

Lotor had naturally assumed that everything had passed with Adam. He’d never experienced grief that he hadn’t had to repress and move away from. He wasn’t used to people carrying grief with them, bundling it tight and letting it weigh them down.

From his experience, he’d thought Shiro had gotten over it the day after he’d heard about it. He’d naturally assumed that all of the spite and aggravation came from Lotor’s involvement, not that he’d still yet to heal from the wound inflicted. Nonetheless, despite his blatant ignorance to the situation, Lotor returned to the closet and got out some pants, holding them out for Shiro. “There. Go get changed and take a breather, okay?”

Shiro nodded, took the pants, and left to the bathroom. He kicked off his sweatpants, and pulled on Lotor’s jeans, only having trouble when it came to buttoning up the waist. Luckily, the rest of the jeans fit rather normally -- maybe a bit tighter about the thighs, but nothing uncomfortable. Shiro successfully managed to button and zipper up his fly, and then stood back a bit to study himself in the mirror. He frowned a little, noticing the lack of color. No wonder Lotor had thought him to be sick. 

He leaned forward, settling his palms on the sink, and took a moment to just breathe, eyes closed. He cleared his mind out, focusing only on the breath in his throat and in his lungs. The seconds pulled on into a minute… and then a minute and a half… and then two minutes. Shiro fluttered open his lashes, glad to see some of the color had returned to his cheeks and his eyes. The moment or so was all he needed. He’d have to remember that… to ‘take a breather’ every now and then…

Shiro left the bathroom, and found Lotor waiting out in the living room, tapping about on his phone. Shiro watched him for a second or so, before giving a soft sigh to announce his presence. “I miss my phones,” he muttered dismally, trying to start a new conversation. “Actually, I only miss one. Fuck my work phone. My personal one had all my games on it. I can’t believe I’m gonna lose all my progress… and all my contacts… not that there was anyone I talked to beside Keith.”

Keith. Shiro suddenly wondered how he was doing. If he ever opened up Shiro’s message. If he ever checked to make sure if he was okay. If Zarkon ever asked him about Shiro’s disappearance. If Zarkon had…

Shiro shook his head and closed his eyes for a half a second, as though he’d just been blinking a bit hard. Not right now. Just breathe. 

Lotor kept his eyes on Shiro, watching him as he spoke and as the worry crossed his features. He was the embodiment of anxiety- so tense and nervous that Lotor wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t make it worse. Not that he knew what was going on.  
“Shiro, you’re not really making sense,” he muttered. “I don’t think I know who Keith is. Can you try explaining this to me so that I can try to help?”

He didn’t know what to expect from Shiro now- his entire demeanour was different to usual. He was unsettled, defensive, panicked. Lotor had seen the look in his eyes. He could recognise the worry and the anxiousness. He’d felt the same way, years ago, when he was still working with his father. One of his generals, Axca, had disappeared from one of her missions and was gone for a week longer than she’d promised to be. If that was the same way Shiro felt- he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Come on, sit down. We can go for a drink when you’re less… agitated.”

Shiro gave a soft frown, his eyes on the ground. He was sure the discomfort was apparent in his form and his features when he settled down on the couch beside Lotor, eyes focused on the lines of the floorboards. “It’s nothing, Lotor,” Shiro muttered, echoing himself from before. “I’m fine. Keith is… a friend of mine… he works for me. Worked, I guess. We were, uh… close? We got into a sorta fight before I left, and then he didn't answer my calls when I needed help taking care of Sendak’s body. I know that if…” Shiro hesitated before saying Zarkon’s name, looking up to Lotor for only the second beforehand to make it clear he meant no harm in it. “I know that if Zarkon finds out what I did, he’ll kill him. Or… or worse…” his hand trailed up to his face, delicately touching at his scar. 

Shiro noticed how dismal and worried his tone had become, and shook his head quick. “But Keith is smart. He knows how to disappear. He’ll be fine.” He blurted these forced sentences through his disbelieving lips, forcing them to turn up in a weak, ahsen smile. “I’m just… Lance is sick. My head hurts. I’m tired. My fuckin’ face hurts-” Shiro paused to give Lotor a more genuine smirk. “It’s just me being dumb. Mafia-Zarkon shit is just on my head all the time. It’s nothing. That’s all. Just… ignore me, alright man? It’s nothing.” 

Lotor watched him for a few moments.  
“Zarkon might be savage, cruel, sadistic, whatever else, but he can recognise tells. I doubt Keith is in much shit, alright? And if you know his number, there’s a payphone near the bar I want to go to, and you can call him. Clear it up a little. It’s masked and everything, he’ll never be able to trace the signal and if he does- well, this isn’t his territory and he won’t be stupid enough to come here.” Lotor stood, brushing his hands off a little, picking up Blue’s leash. “Would you like that?”

He knelt down, clipping the leash onto Blue’s collar and standing. “Because we should head out soon. I don’t want Allura to catch me drinking so early.” His tone turned playful and a smile crossed his features. Although, as much as he seemed like he was joking, Allura was just about kill him if she caught him drinking before it was even midday.

Shiro felt himself let go of a breath he didn't know he’d been holding -- one he had tight in his chest ever since Keith failed to pick up his call all those nights ago. “That would be great,” Shiro said earnestly, standing up. Once again, he realized his tone had crossed a certain line, and Shiro cleared his throat. “I’d, uh, I’d really like that. Thanks.”

He became anxious to go -- anxious for that payphone by the bar. He could care less about early morning drinks, or Arus Mafia leaders shooting him on sight. His skin prickled with electricity and his stomach tied itself into knots at the mere thought of being able to check on his old friend. Without thinking, Shiro placed and enthusiastic hand on Lotor’s shoulder. “You’re right. Let’s go,” he said quickly, impatience twisting at his voice. 

The two then found themselves on the streets. Lotor lead the way, walking Blue on her leash while Shiro stepped in his jittery impatience behind them. Like the night before when he went out searching for Lotor, Shiro kept his head up and his stare keenly focused on the world about him. It seemed as though Lotor had been taking Shiro to the bar the lady at the dek had told him and Lance about -- the one only a few blocks away from the hotel. 

Finally, Shiro spotted a dimmer, squatter looking building up on the corner. He stepped up beside Lotor, and pointed up ahead. “Is that it?” he asked anxiously, a soft, nervous grin pulling at his lips. 

Lotor nodded, gesturing ahead. “Yeah. Phone booth is right there, I’ll keep watch outside so nobody shoots you in the head while you’re talking, alright? Now go on. I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” he said with a smile. It was nice to see Shiro so relieved. He was usually so anxious regardless- he never saw him behaving so well or being so polite or anything. Lotor was damn near tempted to start being nice to Shiro more often- maybe Shiro would always be such a suckup.

Regardless, he opened the phone booth door and gave Shiro the necessary change for the fifteen minutes he needed- only to then close the door and lean against it like it would give Shiro some kind of protection.

Shiro took the change as slipped into the phone booth, giving Lotor a final glance before slipping the coins in the slot. He picked up the cool phone from its stand, and, with a hot pang of feeling shooting through his gut, he began dialing Keith’s number. He knew it by memory -- it was something he ingrained into his brain long, long ago for both work and personal reasons. It didn't take him long to pull it from one of his internal filing cabinets, each push of the thick keys of the keypad initiating a shrill beeping from the phone at his ear. The number had been typed all the way down to the second to last digit, his finger hovering over the last seven of Keith’s phone number. Hesitation gripped him a moment -- gripped him with a hold so strong he froze. 

What if Keith didn't answer? 

Time was running out -- the phone would recognize the lack of activity and cancel the call in a few moments, and Shiro had already given all his money to the machine. With a gasp of breath, and then a heavy, wavering sigh, Shiro pressed his finger down on the last number, and closed his eyes. The phone held silent a moment, registering all ten digits. It then began to ring. 

It rang once. Twice. A third time. Each time Shiro’s stomach clenched tighter. Each time his chest seemed to almost compress, squeezing the air from his lungs. A fourth time. A fifth time. And a-

A click of an answer. 

“Keith!” Shiro cried, unable to restrain himself. “Keith, is that you? Hello?” 

“Shiro?” Came the voice on the other side. Disbelief and shock at first, quickly followed by an enraged “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Keith knew about as much as anyone else. Sendak’s disappearance had soon been reported as a murder when Keith had been obligated to turn in the voicemail. Shiro was to be given an extreme punishment if ever he returned- not only for his betrayal to the mafia, but for fleeing immediately after. No footage available of either of them or where they had gone. Nothing.

He sounded angry, a dead giveaway to his worry that Shiro would notice. To anyone else, it would have been anger, but Shiro knew him too well. He couldn’t hide his emotion from Shiro no matter how hard he tried.  
“God, Shiro, I’m going to fucking kill you. Come back.”

Shiro had slackened, leaning up against the glass wall of the phonebooth, a relieved smile crookedly curled up his cheeks. “Thank God,” he whispered. “Shit, Keith. I was worried about you.” 

Shiro stood up a lightly straighter, moving the phone to his other ear so he could pace a bit around the small space without the cord wrapping itself around his neck. “I’m sorry. I called you, shithead, but you didn't answer. I had to get… someone else’s help,” he explained, trying to think of how he could word such a situation. “I’m never coming back, Keith. I’m done. I’m out. For good. I’m not going to tell you where I am. And I’m not going to tell you where I’m going. If you knew anything, Zarkon would interrogate you…” He trailed off, stopping his awkward pacing. His finger coiled the phone’s cord about his knuckles, anxiously playing with the wire. “Did he do anything to you? Did he hurt you?” 

Keith’s irritation was clear from his tone.  
“Of course he fucking hurt me, Shiro! I waited a week to hand in that damn voicemail because I didn’t want you to be on some kind of fucking wanted list!” he snapped. “And when I finally handed it in, he announced it everywhere. You were no longer someone unlucky enough to have been picked off, you were a fleeing coward who had murdered a superior.” He didn’t address Shiro’s decision to leave permanently. He would talk about that later. He didn’t want to think of how likely it was that Shiro was abandoning him again.

He wanted to address that issue, but… not yet. He couldn’t quite process the information that Shiro was leaving permanently. 

Shiro bit the inside of his cheek. “Keith, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking down at his feet. “I… I’m sorry about everything. I really am. I had to kill Sendak. He was going to kill me -- had me by the throat and fucking destroyed my arm. I did what I had to do and I left. You can tell that to Zarkon, if you’d like. You can tell him he’ll never fucking see me ever again. Anything to get him off your case…” 

There was a heavy silence. Shiro’s fingers still worked at the wire. His molars still worked at the flesh of his cheek. 

“You could run, too,” he said quietly. “If you wanted to get away. I could help you, Keith. I know people who could help you get out.” 

Keith let out a sharp laugh.  
“What, people who could swoop in and save me? Push me to somewhere that I won’t know anyone, where I’ll owe people who helped me for the rest of my life? Where I’ll likely never see you again? I don’t see the point. You know what I’m like and you should know that the only reason I joined the shithole mafia was because you wanted me to. The only reason that I stayed, that I committed my first murder, was because I was on a mission with you. The whole reason that any of this has happened to me is because of you! And now- now what? You just decided you didn’t want to do it anymore? You killed Sendak and decided that instead of dealing with it properly, you’d fuck off?”

His tone wavered a little, voice cracking. “Tell me you’re not serious. Come on, I- I can convince Zarkon to drop the charges for Sendak’s murder. I can get him to leave you alone for it all when you get back! Please, Shiro, you can’t leave me again.”

Shiro closed his eyes, a sharp ache blooming about his chest at Keith’s tone and Keith’s words. He opened his mouth to speak, lips parted just gently as he searched for his own words. It took him a long while to find any worth saying. 

“I have to leave,” he said after that stretching of painful silence. “I don’t have a choice. I’m sorry, Keith.” 

There was a long period of time where neither of them said anything. They just listened to the quietness of the opposite ends, waiting. Aching. The silence hurt, and it hurt them both badly, but neither dared to speak even a word.

Finally, Shiro grit his teeth, and closed his eyes a little harder. “I’m sorry I called. I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he muttered, lifting a blind hand to the machine. He pressed his finger on the little lever the phone would sit upon -- the one that would hang up the call if he would push down upon it. There was another moment or so of silence. 

“I love you, old friend. Goodbye, Keith.”  
“Shiro, no, you can’t leave me again! You can’t-!”

Shiro pushed his finger down. There was a click, and the phone cut into the shrill tone of a dead line. He pulled it away from his head, looking down at its old frame and chipping color. His finger still held the lever down -- pressing so hard his knuckles had turned white. He stood like that a few minutes, recognising what he had just done. His eyes glossed from the phone to Lotor, and his frown deepened -- souring. He’d wasted all of Lotor’s change. The call only lasted about four or five minutes. 

He sighed. Shiro lifted his finger from the machine, and clicked the phone in its place. He turned to the door, and gently knocked on the glass. He waited until Lotor leaned up off of the door to push it open, exiting that stuffy phone booth. 

He wore a fake smile. 

“That’s taken care of then,” he said with a weak laugh. “Let’s go get some drinks. I… I really need some drinks.”

Lotor watched him for a moment but he had already invaded in enough of Shiro’s personal life. So, instead, he just moved to the bar and held open the door for the other. “However much of whatever you want,” he promised. “I’ll pay for it all.” He didn’t care about the prices. He had more than enough money. He cared for nothing but Shiro’s wellbeing and if he felt like he needed a drink, then he could have the drink that he needed.

He walked in once Shiro had entered, trailing behind him. Blue trotted happily behind them and he sat at the bar, leaving a space beside him for Shiro while Blue lay at their feet. The bartender, upon seeing the leash in Lotor’s hand, opened a small tub of dog treats that he had behind the bar and gave a couple of them to Lotor, who thanked him and fed Blue.

When Quinn had been elderly, just as Lotor was moving, he’d gotten permission to bring the dog in here. He did that almost daily, stopping for a drink halfway through his walk before turning around and returning home. Evidently the dog treats had stayed in case anyone brought in a dog. Lotor appreciated the small action, but he missed Quinn. It hurt a little to remember him.

Shiro settled himself on his seat at the bar, watching the bartender and his bag of treats a bit curiously. The establishment was mostly empty aside from a party tucked up in one of the corners playing darts, and the scattered drunk here and there. The lighting was dim. The wooden blinds that draped over the four or five windows did a good job at staunching the natural light, leaving just the amber glow of the lamps that hung low from the ceiling, and the bright shine of the neon wall decals hung about the long room. Shiro liked it. It was calming. 

He slumped forward, resting his arms on the glossy wooden surface of the bar before him, back arched a bit tiredly. Shiro gave Lotor a glance from the corner of his eyes, sighing a little. “What are you getting?” he asked quietly. “It’s a little early for shots… but I’m not really a beer guy, myself.” Lotor laughed a little.  
“Yeah, and this isn’t exactly a wine-place. Two shots,” he turned his attention to the bartender “Each.”

Blue was sitting contently by their feet. She’d lie down, occasionally roll onto her stomach. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy sticking her paws in the air and letting out a needy yap for attention. Every so often, if someone entered or sauntered over in search of the bathroom, they’d give into her demand. And goddamn, you’d never seen a happier dog than when a pair of drunks had come over, petting and rubbing her stomach, talking to her like she was the sweetest damned thing they they ever did see.

Lotor made sure to supervise carefully if anyone approached, but soon their shots were being handed to them and poured out. He took one of his and knocked it back, the burning in the back of his throat barely fazing him. From the way he eagerly grabbed his second glass and knocked it back, too, you’d think he enjoyed it.

“So what’s the occasion?” asked the bartender. “Usually you’re not hardly allowed in here. Allura out of town or somethin’? Or have you just had a shit morning?” Lotor offered up a smile.  
“A little of both.” He slid the glasses over. “Another two, please.” 

“Hell yeah,” Shiro muttered upon Lotor’s new order.

The shots were good -- they burned his throat and his chest nicely, warming up the exposed skin of his arm. He was sitting at a straighter posture, the alcohol already doing wonders about his system. It energized his blood and already fuzzed up his brain a bit. When the bartender came back with the two new shots, and after Shiro downed one of them, he complimented the man’s vodka, and asked for the brands. Obviously, the alcohol he and Lotor were drinking was one from one of the more expensive bottles -- some sophisticated, incredibly well tasting vodka Shiro only had at Mafia parties hosted by the richer drug lords. It was a rare pleasure, indeed. 

Shiro picked up his fourth shot and noticed Lotor hadn’t knocked back his own yet. Shiro raised it a bit, gesturing for a toast of some kind. “Come on man. Clinkies?” he asked, a childish giggle on his tone. “A thanks to the chivalrous Lotor, buying expensive drinks for the pathetic Shiro?” 

“Pathetic?” Lotor asked. “I’ll fucking drink to that,” he said with a small smile on his lips, clinking their glasses together and draining the glass. “God, I thought Lance was fucking dying when you came in this morning. If you’d told me he just had a fever, I wouldn’t have been so worried. I mean- you bust down the door, shouting for Coran like Lance had had a heart attack or he’d accidentally impaled himself or some shit.”

He smiled, taking ahold of his other shot glass and knocking it back with ease. He didn’t seem as affected by the alcohol- though that was likely because he had had breakfast. Shiro, on the other hand, was drinking on an empty stomach. That wasn’t usually a good idea. No, scrap that, it wasn’t ever a good idea.

Shiro gave a soft laugh, and shrugged his shoulders a bit. “What was I supposed to think? I’m not a doctor,” he snickered, waving at the bartender and gesturing his empty shot glasses. The bartender nodded, held up two fingers in question, and Shiro gave him a thumbs up before the man turned away. He turned back to Lotor, leaning over on the counter, his elbow on the bar and his head in his palm. “Besides, I don’t get sick. I don’t know all the fuckin’ symptoms and shit. Last time I was sick was like… well, shit I think it was four years ago. When Zarkon, uh, you know…” he trailed off, turning his head to give an awkward cough. “Well, at least it is just a cold. No, uh, food poisoning or anything…” 

Lotor nodded. “I fucking hate Zarkon,” he muttered. “Not even from a, uhh, abused point of view. I just generally fucking hate him. I tried to kill him once, you know,” he said as he gestured to the drinks, expectantly waiting for the man with the magical alcohol to top them up and get them hammered. “Did not go well. Not even a little. Well- It did for like… half a second. Or two seconds. Some fucking pathetic amount of time,” he said as he leant back in his seat. 

He suddenly seemed to remember that Blue was there, whistling and watching her light up like a goddamn christmas tree, her eyes glimmering as her tail began to wag. She jumped up and settled both paws on Lotor’s lap, letting out an enthusiastic bark.

Shiro grit his teeth, but he also gave a dark smile, looking down at the bar in front of him. It was almost a twisted up baring of his teeth as the idea of Zarkon dying flashed about his discombobulated mind. “Killing Zarkon would be fucking everything to me,” he said in a snarling tone. “I had to stuff all my hatred for him somewhere else while I worked for him… I guess I stuffed it at you or something… but now that I’m fucking out I can fantasize about blowing his Goddamn brains out all I want…” Shiro paused and shot Lotor a nervous glance. “Not… not that I ever thought that about you or anything… hah...” Lotor didn’t respond to that, simply taking another shot.

Shiro leaned back, took a gulp of one of the new shots the bartender provided. He dragged his tongue over his lips, savoring that taste of that wonderful vodka. Shiro shook his head a little, and turned his head to fully look at Lotor beside him, his eyes a bit hazy. Shiro furrowed his brow, and remembered what Lotor had said -- running the strangeness through his slowed, intoxicated mind again. “Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean it went well for a few seconds? That doesn’t make sense.” 

Lotor kept his eyes on Shiro for a few moments.  
“I mean I tried to stab him. It went well for a few seconds because I only began to succeed. He came home from work and I ran at him, swung the knife. I think… I think I was fifteen. I aimed for his head but I was half his height so that wouldn’t have worked. Even if it would have- Haggar was beside him. I didn’t see the witch.”

 

He knocked back another shot and, when the refills were poured, he took both of them. He’d lost count of how many he had had by then.  
“And when I saw her, I was already swinging the knife. I saw his eyes widening and he reached out to stop me- but before he could even get ahold of me, she shot me. Not with, like, a proper gun. She didn’t pull a fucking assault rifle on me, it was this weird energy thing. If I had to describe it, it would have been like licking a battery but ten times as bad and the impact was on my stomach.” 

He wiped his lips a little, clearing some alcohol from them. “And I was put through hell for my attempt. Still tried again. About a week later, I tried to poison him. Either I mixed up the glasses- and I don’t think I did- or they were switched. Next thing I knew, I was vomiting, then I was bedridden for a week.”

A chill had shot down Shiro’s spine at the mention of Haggar, but he kept his face straight and attentive (as straight and attentive as a drunk man could be, of course) as Lotor continued on with his story. When he was done, Shiro turned his eyes back onto the counter, nodding gently into the silence. He ran his finger over the rim of an empty shot glass, dragging it about in small circles. He’d been thinking of ordering another round… but his stomach had already begun to turn. Maybe he’d just order a glass of water instead…

“Shit, man,” he said quietly after a few moments, too intoxicated to come up with a proper form of comfort. “Your life kinda sucked, huh? No offense. Fuck- that was blunt, sorry. I can’t think straight.” Shiro shook his head a little, and blinked his eyes. He leaned back a bit, now holding the shot glass in between his index finger and his thumb, lifting it up and clinking it back down in a mindless tapping motion -- just something to keep his hands busy. 

Shiro looked at Lotor again, and tilted his head a bit. “I can’t say I ever licked a battery before,” he said with a smirk, figuring it’d be best to change the topic. “What happens?”   
“Try it,” Lotor said in a dull tone. “I don’t care to explain. I can’t remember,” he mumbled, stopping the bartender from pouring them both more shots. “But yes, my life did ‘suck’, and I’ve not even told you about the lowest parts. How about we try to get home in one piece, then we can get drunk beyond belief and I can tell you more details with a little more confidence. Mm?”

He put down an excessive amount of money and stood, grabbing Shiro’s wrist and Blue’s leash, beginning to drag the two of them out of the bar. The sun was deadly bright, though, and he didn’t like it. That must have been why he only got drunk at night.

Though, in all fairness, his alcoholism stopped for no man nor woman. Well- one woman. Allura. She intimidated him into sobering up and that was the only reason he’d not become a total alcoholic upon being safe. He’d gotten close to being an alcoholic before, when his father’s abuse had been too strong and he didn’t want any of the memories when he was going to sleep.

Now getting drunk was just a treat that he indulged in once every so often. He hadn’t gotten drunk for three months prior to being with Shiro today. And the only reason he’d gotten drunk then was for Allura’s birthday. The time before then had been two months prior where he’d gotten drunk two or three nights in a row after their breakup. He was doing pretty well.

Shiro stumbled along with Lotor, a hand brought up to his face to block out the harsh light of the sun. It was rather obvious he’d been a bit drunker than Lotor -- Shiro swayed on his feet and tripped over his own shoes and spoke in a low, slurring sort of tone whenever he’d absentmindedly comment on Lotor’s stride or Lotor’s tight grip on his wrist. There were a few instances where he did bump into another pedestrian on the sidewalks, apologizing earnestly each time he did so. Most gave him sympathetic nods, or even a pitiful frown and a judging look at Lotor, but there was one man who took it the wrong way. Shiro had swerved out of the way of a group of tourists who had rushed by, Lotor’s grasp on his hand slipping as he stumbled backwards. His back bumped into some man in a suit behind them, and Shiro spun around to apologize. Halfway through his panicked sorry, however, the man placed both of his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, and shoved him backwards. 

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” the man spat as Shiro toppled over. Shiro looked up at him, wide-eyed from his place on the ground, a bit too shocked to respond. The man kept going, anyways. “Some of us have more important things to do than getting drunk and parading about the streets like an asshole.” With that, and the smoothing out of his suit, the man straighten up. “Try getting your life together, you-”   
“I think you’re the one who should fucking watch it!” Lotor’s voice came, sharper than intended but with about as much malice as wanted. He’d grabbed the man’s suit by now, holding him by the arm.

So few words exchanged and yet, Lotor was angrier than this ‘businessman’.  
“He was apologising to you! He walked into you by accident and he apologises and what do you do?! You insult him and give yourself a whole fucking superiority complex! Keep your ego in check, you asshole!” he shoved him, hard, but not hard enough to knock the man to the floor. He glanced back at Shiro and muttered for him to get up. “Some of us have more important things to do than being pretentious pricks. Go buy yourself some manners.”

Shiro watched the scene from his spot on the sidewalk, rubbing at his elbow with his prosthetic. It had gotten a bit scraped on the ground when he had fallen over, and burned sharply against the cool steel of his arm. His face had gone bright red and Lotor told him to get up, the skin about his neck and ears also flaring up when he noticed how many other pedestrians had stopped and stared to watch the event unfold. He pushed himself up, rubbing his arm and looking down to the pavement. 

“Lotor,” he muttered. “It’s not that big of a deal. It was my fault-” 

“You’re right it was your fucking fault,” the man cut in, Lotor’s interjection seemingly fueling his bitterness. He looked at Lotor, scowling darkly. “Piss off, pal. This isn’t about you.”   
“It involves me! That’s my fucking friend that you’re insulting! He made a goddamn mistake and you’re such a conceited asshole with your head so far up your own ass that you couldn’t even accept an apology! I hope that, whatever you’re so desperately needed for, you’re late.” He took Shiro’s hand. “And I also hope that you’re hit by a car. Thank you, I’ll be taking my leave now.”

He began pulling Shiro away, moving at a quick pace to get away from the scene before he was punched for his rudeness. He wasn’t sure what exactly had come over him- Shiro just had this kind of an influence over him. First last night’s argument, now this. Jesus, Shiro was doing something to him.

Shiro was still coddling his arm as Lotor began dragging him along again, a soft pout upon his flushed, embarrassed features. He had parted his lips to tell Lotor something like ‘thanks, but you didn't have to do that’, but found only the first th sound of his weak, drunken statement cut short by a sharp shout from behind them. Shiro watched as Lotor turned around, shaking his head a bit to tell him to keep going -- but he was a bit too late. 

The man’s fist had already caught Lotor right in the jaw.


	28. Unwanted Attention

Shiro spun around, watching Lotor stumble backwards, a hand cupping his face as he wobbled on his feet. He cried out Lotor's name, eyes widened, and system a little sobered up from shock. Just as he started forward to help Lotor steady himself, he felt a hand latch about his arm, and yank him backwards. The man pulled him close, and scowled, reaching his other hand up to grasp upon the very little slack of Shiro's shirt.

There was only a fraction of a second where Shiro let his daze overcome him -- but then the facts came rushing up to his brain, like water released from floodgates. Just as the man opened his mouth to spit out some crude, angered statement, Shiro felt the mischievous part of him take over, and cut the man off.

"Oh, you should not have done that," Shiro said in a low threat, excitement suddenly sparkling in his eyes.

With that, Shiro jerked his knee up to slam just into his attackers crotch, and then delivered a mighty uppercut with his prosthetic -- the steel fingers slamming into the man's chin with a relentless clang of bone against metal. The man reeled backwards, letting go of Shiro's arm and Shiro's shirt, howling as he crumpled down to the ground. There was a sharp gasping from the crowd that had gathered, some people shouting with glee, and others hissing at Shiro with malice that his move just hadn't been fair. Shiro ignored them, however, rolling his eyes at the man rolling about on the ground. Shiro turned around to make sure Lotor had been alright. Lotor had been standing upright, his face bleeding a little as he watched Shiro take down the business man. Shiro started forwards, but felt a pair of hands wrap around his ankle. They tugged and Shiro tripped, topping forward on his hands and knees.

He kicked back blindly with his foot, the bottom of his shoe meeting something and hearing a soft grunt of pain from the man behind him. Shiro felt the hands at his ankle disappear, and then felt an arm wrap itself around his throat in a sort of chokehold, pulling him backwards. Shiro, still drunk and mildly clumsy, toppled backwards to the man's tugging, his hands tight on the arm about his neck.

"Hey!" he cried in a breathless sort of manner, tugging the man's arm back enough so he could breathe. "That's not fair!"

Shiro's intoxicated and emotional mind couldn't think properly -- any other day the man behind him would already be dead on the ground, but Shiro's head was misted with all of those shots he had, and with Keith's voice telling his not to leave. The voices of the crowd surrounded him with a drawling buzz, loud and distracting to his already whirling brain. Shiro closed his eyes, and punched backwards with one of his hands, sacrificing his breath for a good hit to the man's face. His fist knocked against the man's head, nothing nothing much beside splitting the skin of his own knuckles and the man's forehead. To Shiro's dismay, the man's hold only tightened on impact, and Shiro found he couldn't breathe.

Frantically, he punched back some more -- catching an eye, a cheekbone, and then a temple. Each hit loosened the man's grip just a bit -- only enough so Shiro could wheeze some words past. Desperately, he looked up at Lotor. "Tag team!" he exclaimed in a croak. "Gimme some help man!"

Lotor stepped forward. He had an odd kind of glazed look in his eyes and approached the two of them. His attack was simply, direct, some might even say lazy. He stomped on the man's kneecap. Hard. Some called out that it was unfair play as his foot came down another time, harder still. As a reflex from the pain, he was forced to release his hold on Shiro. Lotor grabbed Shrio, pulling him out of the man's reach while he swung his foot into his stomach. He kept his eyes on him, pushing Shiro behind him so that he could recover. In the meantime, he kicked the man in the face three times, standing just out of reach.

He wasn't going to lose this fucking fight. He hadn't made it physical. He'd pushed him once, and even then it was only in response to Shiro's being shoved.

Allura likely already knew about this. About their fight, him going to get drunk, everything he'd done wrong so far today.

She was definitely going to kill him. Especially when another kick made the man cough a little blood. He took that as their sign to leave, even as the man swiped at his legs in an attempt to do the same to Lotor as he had done to Shiro. He moved back a metre or so, grabbing ahold of Shiro's hand. "We need to go," he said firmly as he glanced at the man behind him. His voice was unusually stoic, calm. He wasn't himself and Shiro should have recognised it- it was exactly what he had been like when he became Kuro.

Shiro watched Lotor with wide eyes, one hand on his throat, and the other on the scrape of his arm. He looked down to the bleeding, whimpering businessman on the ground, and frowned, turning his head back to Lotor to tell him he'd been a bit excessive. But Shiro stopped. He stopped the second he parted his lips because Lotor had a glint in his eyes. An aching familiar glint, accompanied with an achingly familiar tone of his voice. Understanding the feeling, and understanding Lotor's inevitable reaction, Shiro kept his mouth shut, and nodded.

He casted a nervous look at the crowd around them. It was smaller than some of the crowds he had attracted with some of his own glorious street fights, but it was big enough. Some people put their hands up to their mouths and scurried away. Some just watched with the same stupor Shiro had just moments ago, eyes wide and mouths set agape in transfixed horror. One looked to be on their phone, talking wildly to the person on the other side. Shiro hoped it wasn't the cops.

Finally, there were two men who stood around the center of the gathering, talking hushedly to one another. They were in suits as well. One of them pointed at Shiro, and they both looked, twin scowls of observation plastered about their features.

Twin looks of recognition.

Shiro felt a pang of dread, remembering who's terf he'd stood upon, and realizing just who him and Lotor could have just beaten up. He grabbed onto Lotor's sleeve, and tugged at him, turning around and ducking his head. "Yeah, we definitely need to get going," he muttered weakly, already shambling his way forward towards the hotel, Lotor's shirt sleeve in his hand. Blue had been curled up by a building only a few feet away — trembling a bit at all the shouting. They were lucky she hadn't run away. Shiro went over to her, and scooped up her leash, which must have gotten dropped sometime during the fight. "I think some people in our audience might have recognized me."

Lotor nodded, wiping his lips a little, but he stayed silent. He did as he was told, though, and proceeded to drag Shiro back to their hotel. They arrived in one piece, though both a little battered up, and Lotor said nothing as he proceeded to the lift.

It was out of character to see him so emotionless, so unaffected, and yet- here they were. It wasn't like he willingly got into this mindset, but the alcohol and the sudden violence must have triggered something and suddenly he was freaking out- and then overcome with a overpowering sense of calmness. He almost wished he could be so apathetic all of the time to save him from the nagging jealousy, tempting anger, plaguing sadness, but that was the state his father had been reduced to after so long in the business. The last thing that he wanted was to be like Zarkon.

No matter how badly he wanted to stop feeling all of these negative things.

He stood dead still in the elevator, Shiro beside him. His feet were shoulder-width apart and his hands by his side. He waited for the doors to close before speaking.  
"If Allura asks," he said sternly, "Neither of us were in a fight, neither of us left to get a drink, and my bruises came from somewhere else. If she presses, then tell her that you don't know. Would you like to check on Lance or go back to my room for a little longer?" That was his way of giving Shiro a choice on which floor to go to. None of the buttons had been pressed yet.

Shiro nodded a little. "We were with Lance all morning. I don't know what happened to your face. It must have happened last night. I got drunk on my own," he explained quietly, leaning forward to press the button for his floor. "I want to check on Lance for a bit. I'm not gonna wake him up or anything. I just want to make sure he's okay."

The doors closed, and the elevator began its ascent. Shiro gave a soft sigh, tapping his foot a little as the lift climbed its slow way up to his floor. He gave a sideways glance Lotor's way, a soft frown pulling at his lips at the dried blood crusting about his jaw. Shiro looked back to his feet, and swallowed hard.

"Thanks for, uh, standing up for me," he muttered. "You didn't have to, and you probably shouldn't have. But it was cool. Thanks."

"You're my friend, Takashi," he said, not realising that he was using the wrong name (or being entirely aware of it and not caring) as he watched the closed metal doors. "If I have to beat the fuck out of a pretentious businessman to stop him from picking on you, then that's what I have to do."

 

The elevator whirred to a stop and the doors opened with a ping. Lotor strode ahead and waited by the door in the same rigid stance while he waited for Shiro to open the door. While he wasn't as worried for Lance as Shiro was, he'd let him take his time and check on Lance as frequently as he needed to.

Shiro, stunned into silence, opened up the door, and slipped inside. He held it for Lotor, and pulled it to a gentle close, still thinking about what Lotor said. Friends? his mind wondered in shocked astonishment. We can't be friends... No. We can't! You can't be friends with him!

He sighed, shaking his head a little. Shiro just disregarded Lotor's statement, offering nothing but a simple nod as he made his way towards the bedroom. Shiro placed his hand on the doorknob, turned to look over his shoulder, and spoke in a tired voice. "I'll be right out." Without another word, he slipped in.

Lotor watched him, nodding. He'd expected that he would have been going inside with him, but- but evidently not. He just nodded, leaning against the wall, his face blank. He'd just count the seconds. He had nothing better to do.

Lance was in bed. He was asleep right now, the wet shirt that had held the ice was on the bed next to him. All the ice had long since melted and its purpose had been served. He was lying with the blankets half-on, half-off, going from about mid-thigh to just below his shoulders as he lay there. His face was still a very prominent red and beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead from the warmth of his body. Still, though, he was shivering. He didn't stir at the sound of Shiro's uncoordinated footsteps.

Shiro stepped up beside Lance's sleeping form, knelt down, and frowned. He looked at him lying there, looking positively miserable even in his slumber, and felt a twinge of concern spike his gut. Shiro brought his hand up, and brushed Lance's matted bangs back from his forehead. He leaned up and kissed his temple gently.

"Get better soon, buddy," he whispered quietly, the statement accompanied with a soft huff of a laugh."I've been getting into too much trouble without ya."

With another sigh, Shiro stood up. He grabbed the cup of now lukewarm water so he could fill it with more ice, and crept his way from the room. When he found Lotor leaning on the wall, he offered him a sad shrug — the giddiness of his alcohol just about worn off from all the excitement.

"He's not any better," he muttered dismally, heading to the kitchen. Shiro dumped the water out in the sink, went to the fridge, and pried open the freezer doors. He stuck his hand in the scoop for some more ice. "He asleep though. That's good. Do you... uh... do you want some ice for your face?"

"It's his first day of being sick. He'll be like this today, worse tomorrow, and then over the following two days he'll get better. He should be okay within five days, which is likely when we'll be able to move you." He stood off of the wall and watched Shiro move. "I think ice would be good. I can't tell if it hurts or not yet, but... I'll find out. I'd rather prevent the pain before I can feel it. Do you think Allura will know what happened? The reports of violence go straight to her if they're witnessed by anyone in the mafia."

He walked to the kitchen, pulling out a bar stool and settling on it. "I think she'll kill me for that. Or it'll prove Romelle right about me. She told me before, I'm just one fuckup away from being kicked out. But- that was when Romelle lied, so I don't know if that is still a prominent rule." his voice was stoic, bland, and his eyes lacked all emotion but where the apathy was beginning to break and the emotional dam was crumbling, worry was starting to seep through as little droplets. If she sent him away, and he lost the mafia protection, he'd be dead within a week. Two, if he were lucky. Three if he wasn't.

Shiro looked at him. His hand stopped mid-scoop, his head tilted to the side. Of course, he didn't recognize the entirety of Lotor's nerves, but he could guess there's been a rather good amount from the way he rambled. Steady voice or no, Shiro knew the difference between a worried way of speaking from a normal one. Shiro turned back to the freezer, and resumed his scoop.

"If she asks about it, just tell her I started it. Dragged you in. You had no choice — I already threw you at him before you could stop," he said, dropping the rest of the ice cubes in Lance's cup. Shiro grabbed one of the towels that hung above the sink, took one last handful of ice, and wrapped it all up in the dish cloth. He turned around, shut the freezer with his foot, and held out the ice cloth to Lotor. "Easy peasy. I'm a menace, right?"

Lotor shook his head.

"I'm not going to do that to you. Regardless of what happens, if anything, I'm not going to pin the blame on you. I'm more to blame than you are, for once. Just let me take this blame, Shiro. I'd rather that than anything else."

He sighed slightly, taking the cloth and pressing it to his bruised cheek. It was already swelling. "Thanks."

Shiro shrugged. "It's whatever," he said, nodding a little. "Getting punched does hurt. But then again so does getting kicked. If I learned anything from last night, I'm sure that guy is having a pretty bad time right now." Shiro gave a soft snicker, and dared a wink in Lotor's direction, before turning away towards the bedroom.

He slipped in, set the ice down, and slipped out — no whispers and no forehead kisses for Lance in his brief little visit. Shiro sighed, and made his way to Blue. She still seemed a little shaken from the fight — all curled up and shivering on the sofa. Shiro patted her on the head, and looked at Lotor.

"You wanna stay here or go hang somewhere else?" he asked quietly, a numbing disbelief thrumming through his system at how casual he'd suddenly become... and with who he'd been so casual with.

Lotor turned his attention to the floor. "I ought to leave. I don't think that you'll want to be with me while I'm, uhh, recovering. I'll need to be up in my room for around an hour after I've recovered. I can return when I feel better, if Allura doesn't get to me first. I'll leave whenever you want me out." He stood, getting a glass of water for himself and beginning to sip on it. He needed to have a drink- his throat was so painfully dry.

Shiro's eyes widened a little, but he nodded. "Oh, uh, alright I guess," he said lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. He gave a soft sigh, and slumped backwards only the couch beside Blue, gently petting the fur of her trembling back. "It doesn't matter if you wanna hang for a bit... it's chill."

Shiro laid his head back, and closed his eyes. "I think I'm gonna fuckin' nap, though. Street fight kinda wore me out," he added with a huff of laughter.

"I understand," he said as he got to his feet. "I'll see you shortly. Enjoy your nap," he called as he turned and left. He didn't say goodbye, simply exiting the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and he was gone like that.

And with almost perfect timing, Lance's voice came from the bedroom.

"Shiro?" he called, voice weak and hoarse. "Is that you...?" He sounded pathetic. Incredibly ill. He wanted to get another drink and more medicine if he could have some. He was exhausted, his body felt heavy. He was both too cold and too warm, too tired yet too awake. He needed a hug from his boyfriend.

Shiro snapped to attention, Lance's weakened, almost pained voice inspiring a great chill of anxiety to scrape down against his spine. He looked over to the door where Lotor had left, shook his head a little, and stood. "Yeah, Lance," he answered, making his hasty way to the bedroom. "It's me."

Nervously, Shiro opened the door, and found a struggling Lance trying to push himself to a sit on the bed. Shiro rushed over to help him, placing his hands on Lance's shoulders to help keep him steady. He trailed his human hand up to Lance's face to feel his skin. Still hot. Burning. Shiro frowned, and leaned down a little so their eyes were level.

"What's wrong, babe?" he murmured quietly, bringing his hand down to Lance's jaw so he could cup his cheek in his hand. "You alright? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Lance smiled a little, leaning against the cool touch of Shiro's hand, moving one of his hands to rest atop of Shiro's.

"I just... I need a drink, and I wanted a little more medicine," he said softly a he looked up at Shiro. "And I was kind of hoping for a cuddle, too."

He seemed a little faint, his throat still dry and making his words a little scratchy- evidently his reason for wanting water. He was just exhausted, though, and the medicine would make him drowsy which meant that it would be easier for him to sleep. It just seemed like the better choice, to do as Lance requested. Besides, he knew what he was doing.

"What did you do with Lotor?" he asked, reaching up and running one hand through Shiro's face. "You're a little drunk, there's alcohol on your breath, but you didn't have fun. What happened, babe?"

Shiro's eyebrows lifted a bit, and he cocked his head. "What makes you think I didn't have fun?" he asked gently, a soft smile on his face. Shiro watched Lance's questioning gaze for a few moments, and then gave a soft sigh, settling down a little bit. "Alright. I'll tell you because you're probably not going to remember any of it."

He then went on to explain everything in a soft sort of tone, gracing his thumb in soft circles about Lance's cheek. Shiro told Lance of bathing Blue, his conflicted feelings about Lotor, the phone call to Keith, getting drunk, and then getting shoved on the street. He showed Lance his scrape, and then told him about how Lotor got punched for standing up for him. The rest explained itself.

"We got home, I brought you some ice-" Shiro paused to point at the cup of ice on the table. "Which is probably much better than drinking too much right now. Lotor left, and you called me." He trailed his hand up to Lance's forehead so he could push back some more locks of his hair that had been matted to his skin with sweat. "It's nothing though. I'm fine. I'm here with you, kitten."

Huh, his mind mused. Kitten. Haven't used that one in a while...

Lance nodded, though the nickname brought a warm smile to his lips. "I missed you," he muttered. "I only woke up once or twice but I'm not used to doing that alone anymore. And I know that I'm too tired to properly scold you, but you shouldn't have gotten drunk and you definitely shouldn't have let it get too physical. I'm..." he yawned, "I'm glad that you're okay, though."

He lay back after a moment, closing his eyes and deciding to bring Shiro into his arms, holding him close. He was like a big teddy bear, just more muscular and with a lot more emotional baggage.

"I'm going to sleep a little more. Can I cuddle with Blue?" he asked, whistling a little. The dog came trotting in at the sound and leapt onto the bed, slumping down beside Lance and idly licking his hand as it lay by her head. He raised it and began petting her. "Or would you prefer that she was somewhere else?"

"I'd prefer to have you all to myself," Shiro said quietly, flashing him a smirking grin. He stood a little, and eased into the small space beside Lance and the edge of the bed, turned over on his side so he could still play with Lance's hair. "But it's alright. I owe Blue a favor. She got a little scared when that guy shoved me over." He peered over Lance towards Blue. "But you're alright? Aren't ya?"

Shiro reached over to pet her, glad she wasn't trembling anymore.

Lance nodded, wrapping his arms around Blue and facing her, waiting expectantly for Shiro's arms to wrap around him.

"Are you talking to me or Blue?" he asked playfully, pressing a kiss to the top of her little head, running his fingers through her hair. "Either way, I'm good and she seems good, so don't worry about it."

He yawned again, tipping his head back as Blue wriggled over, resting her head on the pillow a little under Lance's head. He began running his fingers through her fur as he brought the blanket over the three of them, closing his eyes. "Is this putting a hold on our plan to move?"

Shiro, living up to his expectations, draped his arm over Lance. He kept a good half an inch between them, not wanting to overheat the already boiling Lance, but did let himself hold the shivering Lance in his arms. Shiro's hands trailed delicate fingers up and down Lance's chest, rubbing and tickling along the man's sickened, touch starved skin through the fabric of his shirt. He shook his head, closing his eyes.

"No, I don't think so," he said quietly. "Lotor made it seem like we were gonna have to leave in a few days anyways."

They descended into a comfortable silence, the only sound the rustling of clothes every time Shiro would raise his arm to grace Lance's neck with the back of his fingers, or lower his arm to mindlessly drag his loving touch down Lance's side. He just couldn't keep his hands off of Lance... but not quite in a sexual way. Shiro felt as though his touch was helpful... at least he wanted to believe it to be so. He may not have understood what it meant to be ill, but Shiro knew what it was like to be comforted. The therapeutic quality of touch was one that could not be beaten in Shiro's knowledgeable opinion. If it had been him who was sick in bed, he knew if Lance were to cuddle and tickle and rub him in the manner Shiro displayed right then and there, he would have been feeling a good ten times better.

After a long while of simply that, Shiro gave a soft sigh. He wasn't sure if Lance was asleep or not. His breath was tremulous, but his sighs were relatively even. Taking a chance, a sudden thought dawned upon his still slightly tipsy mind, Shiro swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to speak. 

"Lotor called me his friend," he murmured. Shiro didn't know what he was getting at. He didn't know if he hoped Lance was asleep or awake. If he was lucid or delirious. If he would remember the interaction or no. Whatever it was he hoped for propelled him to go on, his soft, tired voice hanging in the quiet room. "He stood up for me today. And he helped me out. Let me call Keith and bought me drinks when the call went South... but I don't... I don't think we can be friends. I mean, how could we? After what I did to him. After what he did to me. To... to Adam... I can't just get over all of that. It seems like he can but... it still hurts me to look at him sometimes. I don't think he gets that." Shiro sighed again, his hand stopping.

"Should I talk to him about it? I mean, it's not that big of a deal. I don't want to make a thing about it. But... but I am trying to change. Maybe talking about it would help? I dunno..." Shiro opened his eyes, and shook his head. "You're probably not even awake in the first place..."

The last bit was a whispered add on, a dismal huff of laughter airing out his tone.

Lance wrapped his arms around Blue and rolled over, bringing the dog with him. She happily slumped into her new spot between the two of them, rolling onto her back to give Shiro plenty of kisses. His tired eyes found those of his boyfriend and he leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's jaw (he wasn't going to get Shiro ill by kissing him) and ignoring how Blue gave him kisses under his chin. He pulled back.

"Talk about it," he advised fondly. "You won't get anywhere by bottling it all up and pushing him away." His voice was still tired and he was drained of all energy to project his quiet mumblings. "He already explained and apologised about what happened with Adam, right...? So why still hate him?" He reached up, running his fingertips along Shiro's arm. "He's done a lot for you and he's tried to make up for it. Of course, it's your choice whether or not you accept his friendship, but he's beaten up someone, risked his neck, etcetera, for you. Even after what you said to him during your first few days here.

Lance moved a little closer, Blue putting one paw on his face and letting out a disgruntled yap. He moved back, having not realised how squished she was getting. "Sleep it off or something. Just take some time to think it over. Is your personal vendetta so important to you that you'd overlook everything else about him?"

Lance seemed to be done there, and lay down. He pressed his face into the pillow when Blue began giving him kisses. She soon lost interest, though, and instead turned to kiss Shiro, licking his chin and his face while her tail thudded against the bed.

Shiro pet Blue, thinking over everything balance had told him. He almost wanted to answer. He almost wanted to tell Lance that he knew Lotor apologized and he knew Lotor had his reasons but... but it wasn't that easy. The feelings left behind from Adam's death and Shiro's torture were far too complex for him to figure out like that... especially after working under Adam's murderer and his own torturer for four whole years after. He knew he hated Zarkon. He knew he shouldn't have hated Lotor anymore. But still, every now and then a feeling like bile would rise in his throat and a burn like fire would flash about his chest, like the flashing of a camera. As if Lotor's presence had been acid reflux, or something like that. Not painful all the time but... especially challenging to sit through whenever the burn would be unexpectedly triggered.

How does one just... stop feeling like that when they don't even know why they are?

Shiro rolled over to lay on his back. He was just about dangling off of the side of the bed, but sleep still called to him and called to him rather coaxingly. Blue had settled in between them, no longer interested in kisses but into rest, her head tucked down between both of her front paws and her energetic eyes drooping to a tired close. He still pet her, his hands' attentions refocused having not been able to reach Lance so properly anymore. Shiro closed his eyes.

Speaking to Lotor would be best. Even if he had no idea what he could possibly say or possibly talk about in such a conversation. Even if he didn't know if he would even get through it with both his pride and confusing emotions conflicting one another the way they'd been just then. Speaking to Lotor would be best. It would help... it had to.

His mind still turning, Shiro listened to Lance's sweet command, and slipped off into slumber.

Loud barking and thudding at the door was the first thing recognised after waking up. Of course, Lance's drowsy mind was too exhausted with dealing with his cold to fully realise the shouting and the barking and the knocking, even while the overlapping sounds gave him a headache.

Evidently, Allura had heard about the fight. She was calling for Shiro, not for Lance, and still hammering on the door every three seconds that she didn't get a response.  
"I know that you're in there!" She would shout. "Open the damn door! We need to talk, it's urgent!", as if that last word would make all of the difference with whether or not Shiro would respond.

If he had any common sense, he'd let her tire herself out before anything else.

Lance had given in to the pressure and began shaking Shiro awake- which meant that he was awkwardly grabbing his shoulder, shoving and pulling at it. He was trying to get him awake so he could deal with Allura, leaving Lance's throbbing brain to rest.

Lance wanted to sleep again. His eyelids were heavier than usual, his whole brain weighed down with the idea of sleeping once more. The warm blankets and bed threatened to reclaim him and every few seconds, his eyesight would blur while the outside cacophony became mindless background noise. He was sick! Surely it wasn't unreasonable for him to want to plant his face into the pillow to sleep while dreams sprouted from his brain and carried him through his exhaustion with an absurd string of thoughts from the recesses of his mind.

He gave one last thump to Shiro's shoulder before dropping his hand to his chest. His low, drawled out whine of "Shiroooo..." coming in perfect timing with Allura's shrill call.

Shiro, despite all the racket, woke up slowly. He pushed up on his elbows, and reached a tired hand up to rub at his eyes. Shiro parted his lips to ask Lance what had been the matter, but was cut off by that mighty pounding racket from the door. He flinched heavily at the sound, the sharp twist of fear shaking him awake, and then get gathered his senses. Giving Lance's arm a soft reassuring squeeze, Shiro slipped out of bed, and rushed out of the bedroom. He made his hasty way to the door, called to Allura to stop shouting, and unlocked it. Shiro pulled it open, and his oblivious gape was greeted with Allura's hard stare.

"Allura," Shiro said, a bit breathless. He leaned against the doorway, and rubbed at his eyes a little, his sleepiness from awaking so crudely catching up with him. "What- what's going on? What's so urgent?"

"You tell me!" She said irritably, jabbing one finger into his chest. "Lotor's got bruises and he isn't telling me what happened. If you don't tell me everything I swear to god, I'll- I'll do something about it and you won't like it!" She continued, suddenly wishing she'd rehearsed.

She grit her teeth. Lotor's bruises swelled along his cheek and made his clear skin sully with purple and brown splotches. It was idiotic to demand answers out of him- he had no reason to give them and nothing would change his mind when he had decided.

Shiro, on the other hand, was an easier target. And so, a target he was.

"I may be pissed off at him for how he was acting at our meal, but for all I know, you could be to blame!"

Shiro found himself a bit stuck. His eyes were a little wide, and his mouth hung open in a half sort of gap, a strangled 'uhhh' climbing hesitantly through his lips. Did he tell the truth? Did he lie? What would benefit him? What would benefit Lotor? If Shiro lied to help Lotor, what would happen if Allura found out the truth? If Shiro told the real story, would Lotor get pissed at him for breaking his vow of fabrication? It was quite the predicament, Shiro had to admit. A few moments passed where he stood silently, his tired, slightly hungover brain scrambling for something to say.

"Okay, okay. I'll talk," he started, stalling. A plan of action began forming itself in his head. "We went out for a bit. Tried to make up and talk about last night. He brought be to a payphone so I could call a friend of mine to make sure Zarkon didn't... you know." Shiro paused a little on purpose, brewing up a victim card for himself, and a charitable appearance for Lotor with his exaggerated expression of emotion. "We hung out for a bit, and the call kinda messed me up so I drank a little bit." Shiro glossed over Lotor's drinking. "On the way back I stumbled into some guy and he shoved me over. Lotor stood up for me, and we tried to get away but the guy socked him in the face. There was a little bit more fighting, but we got out of there before... uh... we could get too hurt. That's how he got the bruise."

There. That would suffice. He didn't lie, and he gave enough details to satisfy her, and to keep Lotor from getting in too much trouble. Shiro kept his eyes on the ground, chewing on the inside of his lip. "That's, uh, that's what happened. Sorry for worrying you, I guess...."

"You didn't worry me- but I damn should have been worried. You were in public, in daylight, intoxicated, and you started a fight? Shiro, I'd have half a mind to turn my back on you," she said sharply. "I'm incredibly ashamed. I trusted you more than you proved worth."

She took a step back. "I'm cutting your budget for food in half. Work it out somehow. I'm going to return to Lotor to inform him of what you told me."

And, as promised, she left. She was going to tell Lotor now- meaning that Lotor would likely come to see Shiro. Then, he'd find out if what he'd said was correct or not.

And yet, already, Lance was asleep again, so he would supply no comfort aside from the warmth of his body and the ambient sound of his even, slightly ragged breaths.

Shiro gave a long sigh, shut the door, and leaned back against it. He frowned gently, but only on account of Allura's disappointment in his so soon after they had made up. Otherwise, he was alright taking the fall for Lotor. Just as long as Lotor didn't specify it was his idea to get drunk on shots, and him who sort of initiated the fight, and that he had been a little be too... excessive...in beating up that other man, things surely couldn't escalate further. Sure, the less money for food meant less food for Lance, but if Shiro said he wouldn't tell Allura that Lotor drank and that Lotor senselessly beat a man, then it wouldn't. He was a man of his word, he supposed. Shiro would just eat less the next few days so Lance could have all his feverish little heart wanted. It didn't matter. He wasn't one for eating much anyways.

Tiredly, Shiro made his way over to the couch, and plopped down in it. He hung his head back over the backrest, and closed his eyes, happy to just nap alone on the sofa. He figured Lance had already fallen back to sleep... he didn't want to wake him back up with his arrival.

There was a pattering of paws and a gentle chirp as Black came on her gentle way to the sofa. Shiro fluttered open his eyes and lifted up his head just in time for her to hop upon his lap, and butt her forehead into his chest, demanding for pets. Smiling, he lifted his hands and gave what she asked for, rubbing beneath her chin and about her ears.

"Did you hear all of that?" Shiro asked her, shaking his head. "Allura is so strange. Don't you think? She just comes pounding on our door, wakes Lance up, and shouts at me for the truth — and then she just takes what I give her with nothing but some 'I'm disappointed in you' card. And then she takes away my food?" Shiro rolled his eyes, and looked down at Black. He narrowed his eyes. "That's what I get for being a better person, huh? Less money to buy food? Whatever. As long as Lotor doesn't get thrown out or anything..."

Shiro went on for a bit, but trailed off into silence, simply petting Black for a long while.

And nothing more happened for about the rest of the day. Lance only woke up for a few minutes at a time, Allura didn't return, and they heard nothing from Lotor. It wasn't clear whether he was in trouble or not. Allura hadn't given anything away herself and Lotor, having been unable to visit, hadn't been able to either.

It was lonely to spend his days with Black like this again. It had been weeks since he'd last been on his own like this.


	29. Making A Scene

Late that night, Shiro found himself growing incredibly hungry. He hadn't eaten all day aside from some mints from the bathroom, and whatever he'd gotten at the bar — he had to admit he didn't quite remember if he ate there or not. Reluctantly, and with a sharp guilt for ordering so obscenely late, Shiro called in for a plate of chicken nuggets off of the kids meal, and a few bottles of the less expensive bottles of low percentage beer. He didn't want to drink beer, but he needed a buzz and they were least expensive. He didn't know what half his food budget was. He didn't even know they had a budget in the first place. He thought a bit angrily while he ate his chicken nuggets and sipping his seemingly piss-flavored beer that Allura should have at least told him what their new budget even was.

He figured he'd sleep on the couch that night. Shiro didn't want to wake Lance, and he was a bit wary of catching whatever it was Lance had. Not that he cared too nightly about getting sick. He just didn't want to delay their departure another few days... it would make him feel too guilty. More guilt was most definitely not something he needed.

Black was curled in his lap. His empty plate and empty bottles were scattered about the coffee table. His eyes were trained onto the television, the remote in his hand. Shiro surged through the channels he had, settling for a news station out of habit. It was nothing too exciting. With it being one of the larger broadcasts, Shiro figured their street fight wouldn't be big enough to talk about — and he figured correctly. The news told him of the weather, of the rising crime rates, and of some of those headache inducing politics that usually left a bad taste in his mouth after hearing.

"What a night," Shiro sighed sarcastically to himself. "You're on the peak of living, Takashi. What could be better than this?"

"Cuddling would make it better," Lance mumbled from behind him, currently standing there with a thick blanket wrapped around him, making him look like some kind of triangle-bodied blanket creature. He had a little of it over his head as a hood and trudged over to Shiro, slumping on the sofa beside him. He'd only just arrived and he definitely wasn't meant to be awake but Shiro's absence- even if he'd been lacking Shiro's company for hours now- had made it a little too cold for comfort.

Shiro looked at him, a relieved smile spreading about his tired features. "Lance," he said quietly. "It's late. You should be in bed." Despite his words, Shiro lifted Black from his lap, and rose one of his arms, giving Lance a comfortable spot to lay.

Lance got comfy on the couch, unwrapping himself from the blanket (he was wearing boxers and a shirt but nothing else to fight off the sudden warmth that would occasionally overpower his shivering) and flung the blanket atop of him to straighten it out. He settled his head down on Shiro's lap, looking up at him.

"What did Allura want?" he asked, eyes half-lidded, heavy with sleepiness.

"To talk about our fight." Lotor's voice, more gravelly than usual, interrupted the calm- neither of them heard him come in but the keycard in his . He seemed a little less... composed than usual. His hair was less tame, his makeup had smeared around his left eye. "Which I thought we'd agreed to lie about."

Shiro, wide eyed, whipped his head around. "Lotor!" he cried in a hushed voice. His brow furrowed, and he began to stand up, but Lance's complaining whine left him stuck in his relaxed spot upon the couch. Shiro shook his head, huffing a little. "Jesus. You and Allura really don't know your personal boundaries. How long have you been in here?"

"Only long enough to watch Lance trudging over."

Shiro gave a harsh sigh, closed his eyes, and shook his head a little. "I- nevermind," he muttered. Shiro opened his eyes and looked back to Lotor. "I did lie. Sorta. You know Allura — she was staring me down and I panicked. I didn't tell her about anything you did. I told you I'd take the fall man. I did. At least I tried to..."

"She fucking grilled me, Shiro. She gets back and starts wanting to be told everything that you told her to make sure stories lined up and- and if I would give one, one, detail that didn't match what you said, she'd call me a liar. She won't talk to me now. I don't know when she's going to start talking to me again."

He ran one hand through his hand, gritting his teeth a little. "Especially not after I tried lying about it and you didn't. Surely she told you that I wasn't saying anything? Why didn't you say it wasn't your place or that you weren't with me when I got bruises?" He took the beer from Shiro, not caring about how shit it was as he got a glass and poured himself some before handing it back, starting to slowly drain his glass. "But it's whatever. How's Lance?"

Lance, from where he was lying, stuck his hand out and showed Lotor a thumbs-up, his eyes closed and his lips tugged into a slight smile. "Getting worse but sleeping it off." Lotor nodded.

"You'll be fine after tomorrow," he said simply as he kept his eyes on Lance, who smiled a little more in response and pulled his hand back. He then moved to lie down on his side, curled up, his lazy gaze fixed on the television.

Shiro gave a soft sigh, watching Lotor with a gentle frown. He didn't really want to drop the subject all together. "Okay, what if I lied and your lie didn't match up with mine?" he asked, his tone not exactly accusatory, but it was a bit more strained than before. Nothing nasty... just concerned. "Or what if somehow we both lied and got the stories just right, but she found out what happened anyways? I just figured we'd both get off better with a... nicer version of the truth."

He turned to the television, and downed the rest of his beer before tossing the bottle aside. It clattered onto the rug, but did not break. "I thought about lying, man. I really did. I just... couldn't. New Shiro's got a new conscious, I guess..."

"New Shiro is going to get me killed for trying to help him, but alright." He set down his half-empty glass. "I'll see you... whenever," he muttered, tone a little darker than before as he walked away. The sound of the door opening and closing signalled that he was gone. Lance stayed awkwardly silent, trying to pretend to be watching the new instead of addressing what had happened between Shiro and Lotor.

It wasn't really his place, anyway, whether or not the argument had happened right in front of him.

Shiro offered up a tight scowl at Lotor's bluntness. He fumed silently to himself for a few moments, before the words bubbles up and left his lips without warning. "I guess I can never do anything fucking right, huh?" he grumbled weakly with an angry huff of laughter. "Tell the truth to Allura, she still gets pissed. Shove myself under the bus for Lotor, and he still gets pissed. I get that things are fucking tense between them, but they have to get that I'm trying. Why don't they get that?"

He hung his head back against the backrest, giving an agitated groan mixed with a sort of annoyed growl. "I just screw up everyone around me, don't I? Fucked up Keith's life. Fucked up Lotor's life. Fucked up yours. Maybe this whole 'better man' thing just isn't for me. I tried it for a day and I've just messed everything up worse."

"God, Shiro, shut up. If I could kiss you to shut you up right now, I would. Stop thinking like that." He moved back to lie on his back, turning his gaze to Shiro. "I love you. You didn't fuck up my life, you saved it. You shouldn't prioritise anyone but yourself. You tried to help Lotor, that's what mattered, he'll get over it. You saved yourself, you said Keith is fine, focus on the fact that you saved yourself. You're a better man than you were when we first met. You were better when you saw me the second time, and when you saved my life. You've been a better man for a long while. You're always becoming a better man."

He paused and coughed a little, moving closer to Shiro and wrapping his arms around his waist. "I love you, Shiro. I think you just need a little more sleep and a little less to drink."

Shiro brought his hand to Lance's head, running his fingers through his hair. He looked down at him, a warm flush creeping across his cheeks. "I feel like we have this conversation a lot," he murmured, a soft smile on his face. "I just never get it, I guess. I love you too, Lance."

He laid his head back again, and sighed. "Goodnight, kitten-"

There's that pet name again... Shiro's face reddened some more.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too," Lance mumbled softly, curling up again. He turned off the TV as he settled on his side. He closed his eyes, sighing softly as he closed his eyes. Thanks to his sickness, he was able to fall asleep easily. He was out within a couple of minutes.

The next morning, Shiro awoke with a stiff neck and a faint buzzing in his legs — numbed from Lance laying across his lap all night. He leaned up, gave a soft groan, and tried to crack the stiff joints of his neck and shoulder without jostling Lance too much. After a while of sitting patiently, he reached down to shake Lance's shoulder. Three or four attempts at trying to jostle him awake, Shiro gave up and decided to just awkwardly slip his way out from beneath Lance, his legs feeling like jelly when he finally stood himself up properly. He tucked the blanket up over Lance, flicked off the television, and went to fetch Lance a cup of ice. Shiro set the ice down on the coffee table just next to a scrawled out note upon napkin that explained where he was going. 

He kissed Lance gently on the forehead, slipped on his boots, and made his way downstairs to the lobby.

Shiro was hungry — achingly so. A day of nothing but drinking and a plate of chicken nuggets left him feeling weak and painfully concave. He figured he would order something cheap to hold him over until dinner as he stumbled his way into the lobby cafe, dazedly heading to small, rounded table for one with a hand on his growling stomach. He settled down in his chair, skimmed through the menu, and ordered a small plate of waffles. It took a bit of personal restraint to keep from adding chocolate chips for an extra $1.99, of course, but he managed, explaining his order in a tired, slurred sort of tone.

Sighing, Shiro slumped over the table, his eyes settling to a delicate close. He hoped he wasn't getting sick too... he didn't feel to great. His head was lighter and his stomach ached and the skin of his arms looked paler when he would peer down at them. Of course, all of that was likely on account of him not eating and drinking away his liver for a whole day... but he had snuggled with the sickened Lance all night long.

He was still in Lotor's clothes — he slept in them. They seemed to prickle and itch at his skin, as though the mere thought of them being Lotor's gave him goosebumps. Shiro sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

He hoped Lotor and Allura would keep away from him for awhile. He was too tired for any more drama...

But, as was only to be expected, Shiro never got what he had wanted.

Lotor was sitting at a table across the room, his nose buried in a book on chemical developments throughout history, when Allura walked past. She spotted him and placed both hands on the table, leaning down.

"I thought I said that you weren't supposed to leave the lab," she muttered.

"You can't keep me cooped up," he only retaliated. "I needed breakfast, Allura."  
"And I was going to bring it to you. How am I supposed to know you're not out drinking?!"  
"I wasn't even drunk yesterday!" Voices were starting to get louder, less patient, more irate. The situation was bound to escalate further- and so it did exactly that. "I was a little tipsy but only because I accompanied a friend while he was drinking! I didn't have any more than I would have had if you were accompanying me." Lotor kept his tone in check, volume level maintained.

Lotor's raised voice caught Shiro's attention. He'd just been getting his plate when the quiet shout reverberated about the lobby, and his head turned with every single other hotel resident to catch the scene of Allura and Lotor's argument. A grimace twisted up his face, and he quietly asked the waitress to keep his menu so he could open it up and hide behind it -- to which she complied with only a confused cocking of her head. Shiro watched cautiously over the top of his menu, peering over it to watch them argue across the room. He just hoped they wouldn't notice him.

Allura, when she spoke again, did not keep her volume in check..

"And how am I supposed to know that if you refuse blood tests and I only find out that you've been drinking twelve hours after you return!"

"You know that I can't stand needles," Lotor muttered coldly in response, as if it was blatantly obvious.  
"Your little fears shouldn't overpower how much I worry about you!" Shouted Allura, getting everyone's attention without two tables.

"My little fears come from a history of domestic abuse, Allura, you wouldn't even begin to understand."

Shiro cringed mightily at the statement, and looked around. People were staring, and staring without the polite subtleness Shiro had been using. The two women at the table next to him gaped in awe. The man serving a sleepy looking resident stopped pouring coffee to turn and stare. The waitress who had been attending Shiro stood and watched just a few feet away from his table, giving Shiro a look every now and again whenever Shiro would utter a despondent sigh at one of the more snappier responses. If they didn't stop soon, their crowd would learn too much... but Shiro didn't feel like it was his place to intervene... it couldn't have been... right?

Lotor's tone was still level but it now held irritation, noticeable anger. He checked his page, taking a magnetic bookmark and hooking it onto the page before setting the book down.

"Because you never tell me about what I need to understand! Why do you think I ended our relationship?!" she snapped, gritting her teeth. Lotor tensed.

Shiro cringed, and gave a sharp hiss of pain for Lotor behind his menu.

"Don't bring that up. We both know that you only broke up with me because of Romelle's lies," he hissed, standing. He began moving, wanting to get to the door, but Allura stopped him.

"Romelle was telling me assumptions drawn from the limited information she had!" she argued, defending her girlfriend- only pissing Lotor off more.

"And so you didn't speak to me for days and threatened to send me back to Zarkon for- for what? A couple of assumptions? Some little notes given to you by someone you liked because she was pretty?"

Shiro winced and shook his head. "Bad move, Lotor," he muttered to himself, sinking lower in his seat.

Lotor took a breath and the situation paused for a moment. Lotor ran through his choices in his head- back down and return to the lab, or continue the argument and get into more trouble. He was about to back down, to return to work- when Allura spoke again.

"I wish I had returned you to Zarkon. It would have saved me endless trouble!"

"Jesus," Shiro whispered, his eyes wide and his face a shade or so paler. "Low blow."

She shoved Lotor's chest. Not hard enough for it to hurt or to knock him over, but enough for him to take a slight step back to regain balance. He pushed her hands away gently.

"Allura," he began in a firm, chastising tone. "We've spoken about this countless times before. Don't bring up my father. Don't mention his name in association to me. You know what effects it has."

"I hope that he finds you. One day, you're going to give me a good reason to get rid of you." Her hands curled into fists and she made a move to push him again- another shove, provoking him.

But he took action first and grabbed her wrist, twisting one arm behind her back and pinning her to his table. By now, everyone in the damn room was staring. Shiro dropped the menu in surprise, and shot up from his chair out of instinct. He didn't quite know what he thought he was going to do... but the second he stood, he was frozen, unable to act. His mind screamed at him to interfere -- to stop anything before it could happen -- but his body just wouldn't move. Shiro was just reduced to watching.

Lotor looked at Allura as she glared back at him, her cheek pressed against the table.

His eyes had gone glassy again, hazy, and when he spoke- his voice lacked emotion.

"Don't speak of my father," he ordered sharply. "Don't associate me with my father. He had been beating me since my earliest memories and when I close my eyes, all I can see is his raised hand and grit teeth. I'm going to get back to work." He released her, snatched up his book, and was walking to the door when she stood straight and smoothed her shirt out.

She sent a glance around the room, locked eyes with Shiro, and glared. A chill darted down Shiro's spine, and he opened his mouth as if to say something to her -- to call out to her -- but like before, he was frozen in time. Reduced to staring.

Then, following Lotor's footsteps, giving a loud and irritated shout of "Lotor, get back here!", Allura left.

The lobby was left in a heavy silence.

Shiro looked around at the inawed crowd, his nerves shot and his mind racing. He noticed their curious gapes and astonished eyes. He noticed their interest. The twinkle of entertainment in the small crowd's features was clear as he dragged his eyes about their faces... and their looks of amusement irked him. Disgusted him, even. He scowled darkly.

"Show's over folks," he snapped angrily. "Don't worry about them. It's not your fu-" he paused for half a second, almost stuttering out the blunt curse. "It's not your business. Just forget about it."

The waitress beside him cleared her throat a little, attracting his hard stare. "Is it your business, sir?" she asked curiously, cocking her head. "What do you know about them?" Her voice was coaxing and sweet, her words pitched with a soft sense of begging as she moved a little closer, that amusement still shimmering about her wide, rounded eyes.

Shiro's frown soured. "I just told you it's none of your business," he said darkly. "That just cost you your tip, sweetheart."

With that, he turned about on his heel and stomped off in the direction Allura had run off to -- not really knowing where he meant to go, or what he meant to do.

Lotor was in the lab again. He had his headphones in and the volume up, listening to classical music to enhance focus while Allura sat on a bench with Coran, telling him about the affair at breakfast. Lotor didn't want to hear how she antagonised him so he kept quiet. Besides- Coran already didn't like him from when Allura had dumped him. He didn't want to make that worse, of all things, by arguing with her when she told her story.

Instead, he just worked.

He hadn't noticed Shiro's company, and neither he nor Allura expected that Shiro was following. In total honesty, Lotor had expected to spend the rest of the day, just himself and Allura, while he worked and she supervised. Worst case scenario- she invited Romelle and was extra affectionate just so she could drive Lotor insane. If anyone would know about how much the two of them hated each other, it would be Allura- the reason why they hated each other.

For Lotor it was because Romelle had told Allura false information, sabotaging his relationship and almost costing him his life.

For Romelle it was because Lotor was Allura's ex. Simple as that.

Shiro had found them in the lab about fifteen minutes after the morning's... escapades. He really thought Allura might have gone to her office... which was a bit stupid of him figuring she had called out to Lotor to stop before running off. Whether it was his excitement or lack of nutrients, Shiro rushed up to her office, and found it empty and dark. With her lost, he figured Lotor should have been his next objective. Of course, he would be more difficult to talk to about everything -- Lotor didn't see him or stare at him the way Allura had -- but he found himself heading down to the lab despite his worries of getting punched again.

After all... Lotor had called Shiro a friend yet again, even after their snappy conversation from the night before...

He knocked gently on the lab door. A few moments passed before the soft padding of footsteps trailed their way to the door, and the knob had been turned. Shiro had a steady start to his conversation with Lotor already locked in his head and ready on his tongue, but he found himself speechless when Coran had opened the door. His mouth hung open a bit stupidly, his eyes blinking a bit harder than normal. Shiro peered over Coran's shoulders, and found Allura sitting upon the bench. He also found Lotor sitting at the computer.

Both of them. Together. In the same room. Shiro was dumbfounded.

"Ah, Shiro," Coran said. His voice sounded tired. A little strained, even. He smiled nonetheless. "I'm guessing you're here for help with Lance."

"Uh..." Shiro trailed off, a bit speechless. "I-no. Not, uh, not really."

Shit. He should have taken that. It was the perfect excuse to get away. Instead, he was ushered into the incredibly tense room by a confused looking Coran, who shut the door behind him.

"Then what do you need, Shiro?" he asked slowly. "This... this isn't really a good time."

Shiro was silent, inwardly panicking. Lotor hadn't looked at him -- it actually almost seemed as though Lotor didn't even notice him -- but Allura had been. Her stare was hard and full of warning. Her eyes were hard and dark and threatening. Shiro caught the look, and began to panic even more. He looked around frightfully, trying to find something to save him, regretting even showing his face.

"I don't feel good," he blurted, eyes focused on some bottles of pills stashed in a half open cabinet. "I was... uh... just, uh, wondering if I could get some, like, fuckin' protein pills or something." He paused a swift second. "Maybe I could talk to Lotor about it?"

You fucking idiot.

"I don't need to right now," he said quickly. "I... uh... yeah. Pills. Hah. Is it, uh, a little hot in here?" Shiro reached up and pulled at his collar, fiddling with the hem a bit nervously.

"Just say that you want to talk to Lotor," Allura muttered, picking up a crumpled piece of paper. She balled it up and, immaturely, threw it at Lotor. It hit him in the head and he let out a soft, irritated sigh, taking out a headphone. Though, as soon as he looked up to see Shiro, he paused his music and started to the door. He didn't say anything, just expecting Shiro to follow as he stopped outside of the room.

Shiro's eyes had been panicked and he could almost see the desperation in them- it had been a dead giveaway in itself that Shiro had been wanting to speak to him. And, no matter how much he wanted to work, it wasn't like he could come up with a reason against leaving. He didn't want to be in a room with two people who hated him. He didn't want to continue work right now, when his brain was rewiring and trying to figure out if he should get his emotions back just yet.

He didn't even know what he wanted. He would either get pushed around by Allura or by Shiro and honestly, at this point, he couldn't care less.

 

Shiro gave a nervous sigh, still feeling a bit too hot. "Lotor, I- I didn't really need pills," he admitted with a weak laugh. "I mean, I probably do, but that's not that important right now." He paused a second, the hesitation extremely heavy in his system. Lotor nodded.  
"I wasn't listening, so I'm assuming that that was the lie you told Allura and Coran," Lotor muttered, more as a note to himself than anything else.

"Oh, uh yeah. It was. Not really a lie but- shit whatever that's not important." Shiro shook his head and refocused. "Listen... I... I kinda saw everything back there this morning," Shiro admitted, looking off to the side. "Are you... are you all good? I mean... it was rough. If you need to punch something, I'm here man. That seemed to help the other night, and I'm sure I'm better at being a punching bag than giving, like, emotional support."

Shiro bit back a groan. He was screwing it all up. "Fuck- I... just know that I'm, uh... here for you I guess?"

Is that what people say? It sounds alright. Felt cheesy to say, but it sounds alright.

"I don't want to overstep or anything. Just... it's starting to seem like it's two against one. Or three I guess, if you count Romelle. I'm just saying I'm cool with being on your team if you need me..."

Lotor watched him.

"The sentiment is duly noted, I'll recall it when I'm feeling a little more... uhh... of any emotion. And yes, to say it's three against one wouldn't be inaccurate, though it wasn't too much more different when I was dating Allura, so I'm too used to it to complain."

He straightened up a little.

"You're pale and your hands are shaking. You're malnourished- please get something to eat. Allura capped your budget, but you still have one hundred dollars for your meals a day, so don't hesitate to get something if you need it. And, if you run out of money, I'm sure that adding on some extra for you can't make her much more disgusted with me."

Shiro looked down at his tremulous hands, offered an embarrassed frown, and stuffed them into his pockets.

Seemingly already done with the conversation, Lotor began back to the lab. "Make sure that Lance is okay. Give him three more spoonfuls of the medicine and keep the television off if he sleeps in the living room. He'll be better within a few days from now. Ideally, you'd leave as soon as you're both in suitable condition to leave.It would save you from seeing any more of my indecent displays of emotion or aggression, but I will give you my personal number so that we may keep in contact. Is that all to discuss or do you have more questions?"

Shiro shook his head a little. Obviously, Lotor wasn't really up for talking... and even if talking to Lotor was something Shiro desperately needed for his own clarity and closure, he'd respect that. "No, I don't think so," he said, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. Shiro mustered up a weak smile. "And don't worry, man. 'Indecent displays of emotion or aggression' is, like, my middle name. Er... middle names. Ask anyone. I'm just as bad."

He turned a bit, and waved over his shoulder. "I'll, uh, see you whenever I guess," he muttered. Shiro paused, stopping in his slow tracks. Shiro gave a snort of laughter, and shook his head. "One more thing, dude. Feel free to stop at my apartment and all but like... knock. Please. Your whole creeping out of the shadows thing was kinda freaky."

 

Lotor watched him for a few moments, quiet, before nodding. "Yeah, alright," he muttered, shrugging a little. "I'll try to remember to do that. Sorry." He turned, moving away and going to his room. He pushed the door open, sending Shiro one last glance and a small smile over his shoulder (though it was faked, the sentiment was appreciated) before disappearing back inside. Allura's raised voice was already audible but the door fell shut before Shiro could be privy to any more of it.

And so, with that, he was left to return to his room.

When Shiro got upstairs, Lance had been awake. It was to Shiro's secret relief, too, a warm flush of joy blooming about his system the moment he saw the sluggish Lance sitting upright on the couch, the remote in his hands and the bluish light from the television flashing about his face. Shiro smiled weakly, and made his way to the couch. He leaned over to kiss Lance's head, before turning to find the phone.

"How are you feeling?" Shiro asked. He found the phone on one of the coffee tables beside a menu. He picked up both, and scoured through food choices as he spoke. "It's good you're up. I need to give you your medicine. Did you see my note?"

"Yeah," Lance responded with a hoarse throat. He'd drained the glass, which had been cold water by the time he had woken up, and pulled Shiro to sit beside him.

Shiro's eyes found the steak section, and his stomach seized with yearning. The prices tried to argue with him, as did the early time presented by all the clocks, but Shiro's starving system was set. He looked up at Lance. "Are you hungry? I'm gonna get some breakfast steak. Maybe I could get you some crackers or something?"

"Starved," he said with a warm smile as he shifted closer to his boyfriend, leaning against him. "I want more food but I know that it won't help while I'm this ill," he mumbled, closing his eyes.

"Crackers it is," Shiro said quietly, a warm smile on his face. "Maybe I'll get you some seltzer water too."

Lance took Shiro's free hand weakly and began tracing circles on it. "You took a while, though. What were you doing, Shiro?" he asked after a moment, his eyes flickering to Shiro and a warm smile appearing on his lips. "Hopefully not having some secret affair," he then added playfully, offering a smile as he leant over and pressed his lips to Shiro's neck.

Shiro gave a sarcastic gasp. "Never," he said with a lazily faked conviction. He avoided Lance's question. "How could you accuse me of such a thing?"

Shiro began dialing for the kitchen with his one hand. He reached his other up so he could run it though Lance's hair -- up the back of his head in slow combing strokes. It felt a little greasy, slick against Shiro's fingers. Shiro frowned a little, and looked down at him. "You haven't showered in a while, huh? I could treat you to a bath, if you'd like." He said that last bit with in a joking hum, giving Lance a wink when he pulled his face from Shiro's neck looked up at him. He sat the phone next to his ear when he was done typing in the number, and waited for the ringing to stop. 

It did, and he ordered quickly -- nervously asking how much it would all cost before he hung up. A steak meal (equipped with two sides and a free drink of his choosing), two bottles of seltzer water, and a package of animal crackers totalled up to about twenty bucks with tax. He'd done fairly well... and he felt good about it too. Especially with Lotor's helpful promise still echoing about his mind. Shiro set the phone down, and wrapped both of his arms about Lance's torso, hugging him gently. Tenderly.

"Where were we?" he asked, a slick smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Lance smiled.

"You were going to give me a bath," he said as he looked over at him. "And I wasn't going to complain about it. You're handsome, and I really do want to have a bath. Now carry me to the bathroom, you man of muscle!" he demanded with a warm grin, wrapping his arms around Shiro's neck and clinging tighter to him. He did need a bath and it would help him greatly to relax in a warm bath while Shiro washed his hair for him. Of course, Shiro's treatment wasn't exactly necessary but he wouldn't be lying to say he didn't want to be treated like a prince like that.

He closed his eyes a little, leaning his head on Shiro's shoulder, smiling. Shiro was warm but his skin felt cold wherever Lance's warm skin made contact with it. He hated being sick. He would rather just cling to Shiro while perfectly healthy, cuddling up to him and being able to kiss him without fussing about getting sick.

"Well, you don't have to tell me twice, Prince Charming," Shiro hummed, one of his hands moving down to Lance's legs. It took nothing but a grand sweep from Shiro to have Lance cradled in his arms, bridal style. Shiro laughed and Lance giggled, their holds growing a bit tighter. Lance was light -- a little hard for his shaky system to handle, of course, but still easy to carry on into the mater bathroom. When they arrived at the empty bathtub, Shiro gently set Lance down to sit on the side of the tub so he could start running the water.

He turned the heat on first -- though refrained from turning it up all the way. Next was the cool faucet, turned just about all the way. He watched the temperature of the water rather keenly, holding his hand beneath the downpour and adjusting the faucets every so often to keep it from getting too cold or too warm. He didn't want to overheat the already hot-skinned Lance, but he certainly didn't want to chill him to the bones. A nice medium would do -- just a few degrees warmer than lukewarm. It took a few minutes for the water to full up the hulking tub, the surface of the water foamy with the bubble bath Shiro had poured in last minute, but when it was finished, he turned the faucets off, and made his way over to Lance. He placed a hand on Lance's, which had been moving to pull his shirt off, and stopped him.

"Let me, your highness," he offered in a purr, his other hand reaching down and slipping beneath Lance's shirt. Cool steel met warm, feverish skin, and Shiro smiled at the soft shiver the touch inspired from Lance. Slowly, he slipped Lance's shirt over his head, taking his time to tenderly move his metallic hand up Lance's beautiful body. Shiro tossed the shirt over his shoulder, and moved a little closer. He looked down to Lance's boxers only briefly, and then looked back up. "Do you need help with those, too, or would you rather take them off on your own?"

Lance smiled, quite enjoying the treatment, and met Shiro's eyes.

"You treat me like a prince and undress me, so why stop now?" he asked with amusement clear in his voice, his eyes shining. His heart was light and he could tell how much Shiro loved him from the look in his eyes and the smile and the way Shiro's fingertips ran delicately along his body. Nobody had made him feel so loved before. And to think that Shiro didn't even know how special he made him feel- it was unbelievable. Shiro was too perfect of a boyfriend.

Lance waited for the boxers to be removed before holding out his arms, ignoring the light flush of his cheeks from the embarrassment of being so exposed, waiting to be carried to the bath so that he could get cleaned up. He wanted to be clean again- he hated how greasy his hair felt and how uncomfortable his entire body was at the stickiness. God, he hated being sick. He wished he was one of the people who rarely got sick but he was the kind of person who seemingly caught a cold every year. Without fail.

It was miserable.

Now, though, he just wanted to get over his cold, go to England, and cuddle Shiro by a cozy fireplace every day, once their store was closed for the evening. It sounded perfect.

Shiro grinned at him, and lowered his hands down to Lance's calves so he could raise Lance's legs up a bit. One hand made its way to the elastic hem of Lance's underwear, and he began to tug it down. He pulled Lance's boxers down his legs in a slow, teasing fashion, unhooked them from his ankles, and tossed them aside in the same manner he had with Lance's shirt. He only let his eyes flick downwards for a moment, before blushingly lifting his hazy gaze up to Lance's eyes, simply out of respect. He scooped Lance up again, and then settled him down into the nice, warm bath.

There was the soft sound of disturbed water, and a sigh from Lance as he was set down. Shiro reached for the shampoo, and got to work, lathering the soap about Lance's hair, and then telling him gently to duck his head down into the water so he could rub it away. He did the same with the conditioner, and then moved to find some sort of shower-scrunchy or something he could use with body wash. He found one in the cabinet, and proceeded to gently scrub Lance's arms and his back and his legs when he would lift them up out of the bubbly water. Shiro figured the bubble bath would have gotten the rest.

Finally, Shiro finished, and simply sat beside the tub, idly running his hand over the surface of the water, collecting foamy bubbles in his fingers and hands as he gazed gently at Lance. He looked so beautiful, laying there in that tub, his head back against the edge of the and his pretty eyes closed so delicately. His skin was shiny and speckled with water droplets. His hair was matted to his forehead and the back of his neck. His body was in a relaxed slump beneath the surface of the water, lips curled into the softest of content smiles. A warm pride flushed about Shiro's system at the thought. He made Lance feel good. He made Lance feel better. Even if Shiro's clothes were soaking, and his stomach still felt concave and hungry (the steak had been left on the counter for him — it was what he called out to room service when they arrived with his tray), Shiro wouldn't have given up that moment for the world.

"I wish I could kiss you," he said quietly, leaning forward. His arm had been mostly submerged in the cooling pool of water, hand searching blindly for Lance's. He found it, and intertwined their fingers. "I'm sure I could. Just once. It wouldn't do any harm, right?"

 

Lance glanced up at him, opening his tired eyes.

"You know that I want to kiss you, Shiro," he said fondly. "But just a couple of days longer won't kill you, will it?" he asked, a warm smile on his lips. "You can kiss Blue instead if you want to. I'm sure she would love it just as much as I would," he teased with a warm smile before sinking into the bath- right up to his chin, and then up to his nose so he would still be able to breathe.

His eyes were still fixed on Shiro. He pointed at himself, made a heart with both hands, and then pointed at Shiro before he reached out to take ahold of his hand.

Holding Shiro's hand comforted him and he was going to need to take the most of the affection he was given while too ill to receive direct kisses. He'd be pestering Shiro for kisses to his cheek and neck and hands until he was all better. After all, four or five days with no kisses when his boyfriend was as needy as he was? He was sure that Shiro would sooner die than live that long without being so affectionate. That or he'd kill himself by overthinking every little thing.

He focused on the now. He held his arms out for Shiro like it was an invite for his boyfriend to join him in the bath. And he was being treated like a prince and he didn't want that to stop. Perhaps ever. Shiro's unwavering dedication in even the smallest of situations made his heart flutter.

"I want to kiss you," Shiro said in a pout. He leaned forwards a little more, both arms in the tub. Foamy water lapped at his forearms. "I love Blue and all, but I miss you."

He took a risk and leaned even closer, figuring a kiss to Lance's forehead wouldn't be all that dangerous, but his hand slipped on the sleek tub liner. He fell forward, sloshing the tub water up into his face and all about his already speckled shirt. Shiro pushed up quickly with a gasp, blinking the water from his eyes and pushing his matted hair back from his forehead with one of his hands. He looked at Lance, who seemed to be having trouble hiding his snickers, and burst into his own fit of laughter.

Shiro wiped his face again, and looked down at himself. Water darkened the chest of his shirt, and the sodden stain crept downwards with no sign of stopping. Shiro frowned a bit, and offered a weak shrug. "I'm already soaked," he said, standing. Shiro stepped into the tub one leg at a time, and then sank down to his knees so he leaned over Lance. The water sloshed about them, bits of it rising so high it tumbled over the edge of the tub and dribbled onto the floor. They both laughed. "Who's to say I can't join you?" With that, and another giggle, Shiro leaned forward and pressed that kiss to Lance's forehead, moving down to place another one on his cheek, and then another two his collarbone.

If he couldn't kiss Lance on the lips... he'd just have to improvise.

Lance laughed a little and pulled Shiro close, wrapping his arms around Shiro. "I swear that those aren't even your clothes," he said with a grin. "And yet you're soaking them in my bubbly bathwater. Lotor is going to kill you, sweetie," he said as he shifted a little closer, moving to settle a little on Shiro's lap. It wasn't as awkward as expected due to Shiro being dressed, but Lance still found it at least a little weird to be the only one of the two of them undressed.

He tugged Shiro's tank top up and over his head, smiling warmly. "There," he said with an air of triumph. "Now it's a little bit less weird."

He settled his head on Shiro's chest and closed his eyes, beginning to run his fingers through Shiro's hair absently as he relaxed. The bath was nice. It was relaxing, too, and he wasn't really used to being so relaxed while naked and on someone's lap. In fact, he wasn't used to sharing a bath at all, which was probably what made the whole situation a little bit odd.

Shiro smiled. "Should I just go ahead and take it all off?" he said in a flirt, his arms wrapping about Lance in a gentle sort of hold. He had to admit, Lotor's already tight pants felt a bit odd underwater -- unnatural and strange. He wouldn't be too opposed to the idea... if, of course, he didn't have that steak waiting for him on the counter.

Sighing, Shiro squeezed Lance a little tighter for just the briefest moment, and then let his muscles relax. He leaned back against the side of the tub, awkwardly bending his knees -- which, unsurprisingly, was difficult in wet jeans -- so they lifted from the surface of the water. "We can't stay in here for long," he murmured, one of his hands tracing down Lance's chest beneath the water -- trying to map about his freckles without looking. "The water is getting cold, and my food is waiting for me. You ready to get out yet?"

Lance shrugged a little. "Might as well," he said as he shifted off of Shiro. "Close your eyes while I get a towel on. It's only fair," he said as he put his hand over Shiro's eyes, his voice playful despite being serious about it. He waited until he could feel Shiro's eyelashes flutter as his eyes closed before pulling his hand back and getting out of the bath. He wrapped a towel around his waist and glanced back to the bath. "Okay, I'm decent."

The cool air was even colder on his wet skin, and not even the warmth of his sick body could counter that. He was beginning to shiver, so he took another towel of the three available and wrapped it around his shoulders to keep himself at least a little warmer.

"My animal crackers await," he said teasingly, a warm smile on his lips.

Shiro grinned, fluttering his eyes open. He pushed up from the tub, pulled the drain, and stepped out, his steps awkward as he made his way forward for the last of the three towels. Shiro started unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, stopping himself before pulling them down. He looked over his shoulder at Lance. "I'm gonna go ahead and take all this off. Set it to out dry or something," he told him. "You go on and head out... Unless you want a good show, sweetheart."

"Well," Lance said with a smile, "I'm not opposed to it." But, nonetheless, he left the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

"Then why'd you leave?" Shiro called out with a laugh, hoping his voice carried through the door. With another giggle, and a soft shake of his head, Shiro began rolling the waist of his pants down his his hips. It took a lot of effort trying to remove the clingy jeans, but he got them off and laid them on the side of the draining tub. He then peeled off his boxers, set them in the same place, and wrapped the towel about his waist before heading out into the bedroom.

He went to his suitcase, and kneeled down, making sure his towel didn't slip with the fully dressed Lance watching intently from the bed. Shiro pulled out on of his shirts, ripped off the sleeve, and then pulled it on over his head. He found a pair of boxers, slipped them on under the towel, and then tossed the towel off to the side (with a dissatisfied grumble from the man behind him). Shiro found a pair of joggers, tugged them on, and stood, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. He turned about to face Lance, and smiled.

"Time for cold steak and animal crackers," he said warmly, moving over to Lance. He pressed up against Lance's side, lifting his hand and slinging Lance's arm over his shoulders. "Would you like me to carry you again, or are you able to walk on your own, your highness?"

 

Lance didn't dare dignify that with a response, instead just wrapping his arms tighter around Shiro's neck and, soon, his legs around Shiro's waist. If that wasn't enough of a hint that he was going to be carried, the tightness of his hold on shiro (clinging to him like a koala) should have been.

"Carry me," he demanded after a moment, moving one hand to snatch up a pillow from the bed and tucking it under his arm. Evidently Shiro's legs hadn't been comfortable enough to rest his head on. His other hand, arm still latched firmly around Shiro's neck to keep a tight hold on him, began to play with Shiro's hair.

"I think that the white would suit you," he said after a few moments. "Let's just bleach the fuck out of your hair, babe. How does that sound? I'm sure there's some bleach in the supply closet in reception."

Shiro snorted, and rolled his eyes a little. He stood, one hand beneath Lance's behind, and the other pressed gently against Lance's back. He made his way forward into the living room, the steak still smelling delicious despite its time spent on the counter. Thankfully, it was inside one of those large silver platters with the dome cover, so some of its heat had still been left over. Shiro lifted the cover off with his one free hand -- the other still supporting Lance -- and he picked up the whole tray. The tray holding steak dinner (which was technically his brunch), animal crackers, and the two seltzer water bottles were gripped rather carefully in the steady prosthetic fingers of his hand, and stayed rather steady as he made his way over to the couch. Shiro set Lance down into the sofa, placed the tray onto the coffee table, and then sat down himself. He hungrily pulled his own plate onto his lap, but didn't eat until he had opened and passed Lance's pack of animal crackers. Shiro then twisted the caps of both seltzer waters, and offered one to Lance.

"Sip it slowly. It makes your stomach feel better... I think," he said with a smile. "They make my migraines feel better. Don't know why, but they do. I'm sure it'll help you."

With that, Shiro turned to his steak, and dug in quickly. Room temperature or no, it tasted absolutely delicious. Spices bled over his hungry tongue. The juicy steak split nicely under his teeth and felt good in his stomach. Shiro ate the thing in nearly a minute or two, and then moved onto his sides of mashed potatoes and mac-and-cheese. They were eaten rather swiftly as well. By the time Shiro cleaned his plate of any last scrap, Lance hadn't even gotten close to finishing his small pack of crackers. Shiro pushed his plate onto the table, and leaned back, content and full. He began sipping on his lukewarm seltzer water, a soft smile on his face.

"Shit," he hummed. "I was so fuckin' hungry. That was nice."

Lance glanced at him. "Yeah," he said as he put down the half-empty pack of crackers. He set the pillow on Shiro's thighs and lay down. "You ate so fast. I could barely get through a single cracker before you'd eaten your entire steak." He smiled warmly, closing his eyes as he curled up. The blanket was still on the sofa so he was able to just bunch it up a little and wrap it around himself a little more in order to keep in the warmth. He wanted to be warmer. The bathwater being lukewarm by the time he'd gotten out, then being exposed to cold air- it all meant that he was still shivering and chilled to the bone.

He began tracing shapes on Shiro's leg again. It was just a little thing but it helped ease his nerves and it was just something he did as an absent-minded hobby. His eyes slowly fell closed, though, and it was only a matter of moments before he was too tired to continue tracing circles.  
"I think... I think a nap sounds great right now, Shiro. Don't you?"

Shiro nodded. Lance was back to his droopy, weakened state from earlier. Shiro could tell from the slur of Lance's voice and the delicacy of his tone. He ran his hands through Lance's damp hair. "Go ahead and sleep, Lance," he cooed gently. "I'll be here."

Lance watched him, smiling tiredly, before closing his eyes again and hugging his knees to his chest with one hand. His other was open, palm up, on Shiro's knee.  
"Shiro," he murmured tiredly. "Hand... I want to- to hold your hand," he mumbled, yawning softly. His fingers curled and uncurled in small grippy motions- another little sign that he wanted Shiro to hold his hand. "I love you."

Shiro smiled, and reached his hand down. He held Lance's own tightly, squeezing in a gentle reassurance. He lifted Lance's hand and brought it tenderly to his lips, his kiss soft as it brushed across Lance's skin to his knuckles.

"I love you too," he murmured into Lance's hand. He laid down their hands back down onto his knee. "Go ahead and sleep, love. You're tired. I'll hold your hand while you're asleep."

Lance's weak grip on Shiro's hand only loosened when he finally dozed off, a little ball of sickness and warmth that was more than happy to be in his boyfriends arms while he slept. He loved being so close to Shiro. It gave him such a strong sense of comfort that he was able to sleep peacefully, undisturbed by dreams either good or bad.


	30. A Bonding Moment

Lance woke up eventually. He had no sense of how much time had passed or why he was so tired, only of how hot it was under the blanket (even if he was only in a pair of boxers and a shirt he had stolen from Shiro) and the thrumming voices that brought a headache to his tired mind. He had a little drool on the pillow (how flattering...) and rubbed the sleep dust from his eyes with tired and lazy movements. The voices slowly refined, no longer drowned out or hazy from his tiredness, and it became suddenly clear that Lotor was invested in a conversation about the arms design.

"-It just seemed like the most efficient way to do things. I understand that it might not have seemed that way at first, but it's a revolution in engineering and saves a large amount of materials. It also works fluidly, the same way that any other arm would. It might not blend in as well or be as easy to cover up, but the positives outweigh the negatives. Surely, you understand that?"

Lance, pushing himself to sit up, suddenly had the very blatant realisation that he was not only absolutely exhausted and looked gross, but he had been sleeping on Shiro's lap like a housecat and Lotor had just been in their living room with him! If god had any mercy, he'd kill him on the spot.

Shiro, his lips parted to supply Lotor with a calm 'oh, I guess I kinda do...' or something of the sort, looked down at the stirring Lance. A warm gaze softened his features, and his hand squeezed just a bit against Lance's. His fingers were a bit numb, and his hand a bit fidgety, but Shiro kept to his promise. His hand did not move. Not one bit.

"Hey Lance," he said sweetly. "Did we wake you up? Lotor stopped by, like, twenty minutes after you fell asleep. We've just been talking."

"How..." Lance's throat felt dry, scratchy. It was like sandpaper and he reached over for some more seltzer water, taking a few sips of it before trying again. "How long was I asleep?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He wanted to know how long Lotor had been here, sure, but he wanted to know how long he'd slept for as if it would answer the question of why he felt so tired. The answer was simple- he was sick, and he'd not feel rested until he had gotten better. Fully. And yet, it always felt so miserable to wake up feeling exhausted.

Lotor checked his watch.

"You've been asleep about five hours," he said as he leant forward, glancing to Shiro. "You were about to say something?"

Shiro blinked. "Oh, I, uh, was gonna say I guess I did get that," he said, tone a little quieter. He was a little taken aback by Lance's frailness... Shiro wouldn't ever get used to it. Shiro brought his prosthetic down to Lance's forehead, letting the cool steel of his fingers chill Lance's feverishly warm skin. He turned back to Lotor, eyes flicking down to Lance every so often out of nervous caution. "It's really cool. The arm. It's quieter than my old one, and it's nicer looking. I like it a lot better. Like I said before... most of that was just to get on your nerves. You know because I'm a dick and everything. I... I can't even explain how grateful I am for it, Lotor. Thanks. Again. I can't say it enough."

Lotor smiled warmly.

"Yeah, sometimes people are dicks to me just to get a reaction or to get on my nerves. I once had someone beat me up so badly that I came back home with three broken ribs and a fractured wrist. I thought I would have been able to handle a few offhandish comments. But, evidently I couldn't. I guess that that just happens after spending a long time enduring it," he muttered as he shrugged, keeping his eyes on Shiro. "I'm glad you apologised though. Apology accepted, as it was last time. It means more than you know."

Shiro gave a nod, and a weak smile. It was all he could express, despite the feeling of warm relief that flushed throughout his entire system. Another unconscious weight had lifted from his shoulders.

Lance pushed himself to sit up, rubbing his eyes, only to slump back down with a soft muttering of 'shit!', having not expected his arm to be unable to support his weight. God, he forgot how pathetic he felt. He just decided that it was a better idea to stay where he was and pushed the covers back, keeping them over his legs (from the hips down, not wanting Lotor to see him in his boxers) to keep him from getting too cold. God, he hated getting ill.

Frowning, Shiro looked back to Lance. He put a supporting hand on Lance's shoulder, cocking his head a little. "Do you want me to help you up?" he asked in a soft coo. He was babying him, for sure... but Shiro couldn't help it. Seeing Lance so fragile and tired struck a heavy chord -- one that left the deep thrum of worry and concern thumping about his chest.

His long, rather trying talk with Lotor didn't exactly help much either.

They had been speaking for a while... evidently near five hours, if Lotor was right. Lotor had knocked on the door, and Shiro had called to him to just come in having been trapped beneath Lance. He sat at the corner of the couch, admitted he wanted to get away from Allura and the others, and Shiro said he was allowed to say as long as he had wanted.

The conversation simply trailed on from there, unfurling its way from one topic to another. They spoke of the argument Allura and Lotor had shared that morning, then they spoke of their street fight, and how it had progressed to be so violent, then Shiro confessed what had happened with him and Keith over the phone, and then, finally, they spoke of the dinner from the other night. They almost worked backwards with that last one, Shiro explaining why he wanted Lotor to hurt him, and Lotor explaining why he'd taken up on the offer before they moved to the dinner itself. Lotor, of course, had been explaining to Shiro why his comments about his new arm were unnecessary when Lance woke up. Shiro was sure, with Lance being present, the conversation wouldn't last much longer.

There were some things Shiro wanted to talk about that hadn't been touched upon. He wanted to ask Lotor how tense things were going to get between him and Allura when it was just them -- there were only a few days left before Shiro and Lance would be gone. He wanted to ask Lotor why he wanted to help Lance and him in the first place. Of course... Shiro also wanted to talk about why he'd been so difficult in the first place. He wanted to properly explain himself -- even if his actions couldn't be entirely justified. Shiro wanted to tell Lotor why his heart ached so bad upon the thought of befriending him, and to apologize for it. He didn't know if Lotor would understand or not. Lotor had loved Allura... surely that could help him get Shiro's everlasting heartbreak and bitterness over the death of Adam.

But it would have to be another time. Shiro didn't want to dive into such topics with Lance so present. It was a Lotor-Shiro problem. Lance didn't have to worry.

"Don't overwork yourself, okay babe?" he murmured to Lance, letting his hand trail up to Lance's face to properly cup his jaw. Lance looked up at him for a few moments before shrugging and nodding, rubbing his eyes a little.

"Mm," he murmured, shifting the pillow under his head a little before pressing his face into his abdomen, just to hide it.

Lotor watched the two of them, his eyes flickering from Shiro's face to Lance's state of hibernation.

"So," he began leaning forward slightly, "Would you like to continue the conversation? Is there anything left to discuss? Or should I leave you to be with your boyfriend in peace?"

And despite having asked, Lotor was already getting to his feet and making sure that he had everything that he'd come in with. He could tell that Shiro would rather be with Lance, so he was making it a little more convenient for himself when he was inevitably told to leave.

"I mean... there's definitely more we need to talk about," Shiro murmured, trailing his eyes from Lance up to the standing Lotor. "But I think Lance and I should have some alone time for a while now that he's awake. Uh... no offense."

There was a beat of tense silence while Shiro debated whether or not he should have shaken his hand. In an impulsive move, he rose up his arm — his real one — and held it out. "Uh, good talk though..." he said quietly, looking off to the side. "Glad we cleared a lot of that up."

Lotor took his hand and smiled a little, firmly shaking his hand.

"Yeah," he said as he pulled back and started to the door. "Me too. I've left my number by the hotel phone. If you need me, then just call and I can come over so we can talk about whatever else is on your mind."

Shiro nodded, but said no more. He watched Lotor go, offering a slight wave when he slipped through the door. There was a click of the knob, and then a silence — a silence where Shiro let go a deep sigh. He slumped back against the sofa, and hung his head backwards on the backrest. His hand found Lance's hair, and he gently toyed with Lance's locks.

"Lotor is weird. Last night he hated me, but today he wanted to sit down and talk for five hours," Shiro hummed tiredly. "That's weird, right? I think it is..." Lance shrugged a little.

"I don't know. Did he apologise? Did you?" he asked, turning his head enough to look up at Shiro again. "Maybe he just likes you but has a short temper. I wouldn't know. Ask him."

Lance rubbed his eyes a little, yawning and rubbing his eyes, grumbling slightly. God, he was tired. He hated being ill, it made his whole body feel like it weighed a ton.

Shiro shrugged. "We did, but still. I keep getting mixed signals," Shiro said, giving Lance a warm look. "Most of the time I can, like, tell whether or not someone hates my guts or not. With him it's just plain confusing... Allura too... but I'm pretty sure she just hates me." He gave a soft laugh and a shake of his head.

"Dislikes you, maybe, but probably not hate. She's one of the 'hate is too strong of an emotion' kind of person," Lance muttered with an amused smile.

He brought his hand back from Lance's hair, interlocking the fingers of each his hands to stretch -- rising them upwards and giving a gentle grunt. Shiro yawned, and shimmied his shoulders a bit to ease at his locked muscles some more. That was all done without any sort of pain. The skin and muscle about his shoulder attachment must have finally healed... which felt too good to be true. Too quick to be true, most definitely. After that, he gave a soft pat to Lance's arm.

"Alright, buddy," he cooed, smiling. "You're gonna have to scoot off for a bit. I have to pee."

Lance looked up at him and gave an exaggerated groan, shaking his head. "No, I'm comfy," he said decisively, folding his arms over his chest. "You're going to have to make me get off of you, and if you do, I'm going to complain." The threat, as playful as it was, wasn't entirely untrue. Though Lance actually didn't want to get up because he'd suddenly gotten a very painful throbbing headache and, for some reason, lifting his head only made it worse.

Shiro frowned at him, shaking his head. "Come on," he said in a drawling whine. "You can't keep me here forever."

He sighed, issued a soft apology, and attempted to gently slide out from beneath Lance's head. There were complaints, of course, each one having been met with Shiro's chuckled 'I'm sorry Lance', but soon Shiro was standing, rubbing at his deadened thighs. He left to pee, and returned to find a still pouting Lance on the sofa. Shiro laughed again, wiped his damp hands on his pants, and kneeled down next to the couch. He pressed a kiss to Lance's forehead, and pulled back with a smirk, though Lance's pout didn't falter.

"Is there anything you need while I'm up? Water? Ice cubes? Something to eat?" he asked, each question accompanied with a tender smooch somewhere about Lance's face. First question was his forehead again, the second had been his nose, and then the third and the fourth had both been given a kiss upon his cheek. Oh, but how he longed to kiss Lance's lips. He missed them so dearly. Shiro had to pull back a bit to keep himself from doing so, leaning back against the coffee table, his legs bent so he rested upon his knees. "Anything for you, my prince."

Lance watched him for a minute before the pout disappeared with a huff. "My head hurts, so just some ibuprofen, more water, and another shipment of kisses, thank you," he said as he watched Shiro, bringing the blanket up to his neck again despite how his feet poked out the bottom from how much he'd bunched it up around his chin. His eyes closed after a moment, not waiting for Shiro's response, simply expecting him to do as he was told. Then Shiro would return, be his pillow once more, and Lance could have another brilliant nap to help him feel better.

Though the loud whining and the sound of Blue's paws scratching the front door signalled that, perhaps, it wouldn't go as planned. She evidently needed to pee or she was getting restless from having not been taken out for a walk. Lance opened his eyes. "Shiro, can you take her out? Find Lotor or Allura and go on a walk with Blue. If you don't, she'll scratch through the door and take herself for a walk." His hazy gaze focused on Shiro. "I'll just sleep while you're out. Can you do that?"

Shiro looked over at her, blinked a little, and then looked back. "Oh, yeah. Of course," he said quietly, pushing up a bit. "Let me get all your medicine stuff sorted out though first... Now that you mention it, I forgot to give you those three spoonfuls earlier."

He stood, and brushed himself off a little. Shiro made his way into the kitchen, filled a smaller glass with water, and then collected both the ibuprofen and the medicine Lotor had given them along with one of those measuring spoons he found somewhere in one of the drawers. Shiro knelt back down in his place beside the sofa, poured three spoonfuls of that goopy medicine and held those spoonfuls up to Lance's mouth so he could drink. He laughed each time Lance cringed at the taste, and promised it could have been worse. Finally, Shiro offered Lance two ibuprofen, and then the glass to drink them down with. When Lance was finished, Shiro placed all of the bottles and the dirty spoons on the coffee table, and leaned in to kiss Lance goodbye.

"I'll try not to stay out for long," he promised into Lance's cheek, kissing it again. "Have a good rest, kitten. I'll see you later."

And then Shiro found himself standing awkwardly outside of the lab, an antsy Blue at his heels, tugging in every which direction to get pets from every person who'd seem to pass. His hand hovered a bit hesitant over the wood paneling of the laboratory door, curled into a fist and ready to knock. He was sure things were still tense -- hell, he felt the tenseness through the door. It was almost as if all of the negativity the room harboured seemed to leak out through each nook and each cranny. It crept out beneath the open space between the floor and the door itself, out past the slit of the doorframe and its hinges. Shiro almost wanted to step away from it all -- just go out on his own without telling anyone...

But he couldn't. Hell, he was already in enough trouble with Allura. And Allura was already incredibly pissed off from the day's rather pressing events. Wandering off on his own... wasn't a good idea. He'd just have to get over himself and knock-

Blue barked impatiently beside him, lunging forward and scratching at the lab door. "Hey- Blue!" Shiro yelped, tugging her back a bit. "No, no -- that's rude-"

She barked again, and leapt back towards the door, nearly tugging off Shiro's last remaining arm with her impatient excitement. Shiro tugged her again, but Blue only responded with more rebellious tugs and barks. Shit, he thought to himself, red hot blush creeping about his face and neck at the eyes Blue's commotion had attracted. I guess that's is one way to get their attention...

Allura pulled the door open, about to lecture whoever was there (assuming it was anyone else) about keeping their dog in control before her eyes landed on Shiro. She frowned, folding her arms over her chest.

"I assume you're here for Lotor again?" she asked, not even waiting before throwing another crumpled piece of paper at Lotor to get his attention.

Shiro had opened his mouth to say it didn't really matter who wanted to walk with him, but the paper had already thumped Lotor in the back of the head, and Shiro's words had already died in his throat.

Lotor was still sitting at his desk, as he usually was while he was in the lab. He wore blue jeans today, with a looser fit than usual, with a black t-shirt. He'd gone for a lazier outfit today, as he hadn't expected to be going out, and he didn't wear any makeup. When the paper hit him in the forehead, though, he looked up, his eyes meeting Shiro's. He wore glasses, though they weren't as stylish as expected for someone whose wardrobe cost more than Shiro's new arm. They had a thick frame, small and rectangular. The left arm had tape around the hinge- he'd broken it sometime a long while ago and he'd never gone to get them repaired- or to get a better pair. He only got new glasses when his prescription changed and even then, he only went for cheap pairs. No point spending $200 on a new pair of glasses if he wore contacts all the time.

He took out his headphones and put his computer to sleep, not addressing Allura (though that was mutual) before moving to the door.  
"Do you just want to talk, or am I helping you take Blue for a walk?" he asked, kneeling down and beginning to pet Blue. He whistled and told her to sit and, as if by magic, she complied despite her antsiness. He pet the top of her head and scratched behind her ear as she shifted closer, yapping, her tail thumping against the floor. "She's fidgety, so I'll assume it's the latter." He stood, moved past Shiro and said nothing to either of the two in the lab as he closed the door.

"Yeah," Shiro said, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "You don't have to come if you don't want to. I just came to, like, make sure you guys knew I was going out." Despite his ramblings, Shiro walked along with Lotor through the lobby, his eyes on his feet as the moved.

"No, don't worry," he said warmly. "It's my pleasure. Anything to get away from Allura for a little bit."

"Does... uh... does Allura know you're going out?" Shiro asked in a nervous tone just as they passed the main lobby desk. He could feel gazes of passing hotel guests, all being those who were present for the morning's extravaganza. He ducked his head a little, and blushed for Lotor's sake. He almost wanted to tell Lotor to duck down as well -- but he bit his tongue. Whether or not Lotor was embarrassed wasn't really his business. "She won't get mad or anything? Right?"

Lotor laughed a little.

"No, no, she doesn't care. In case you couldn't tell, she's not too happy with me lately." He smiled a little, continuing to walk. Blue began to run ahead, lunging toward the gates of freedom and almost taking Shiro off of his feet. Lotor whistled sharply and snapped his fingers. "Heel," he said sternly, and she fell in line between the two of them. "After the incident at the restaurant, she hadn't been too keen on talking to me. And, after finding out about what happened with the fight- and at breakfast yesterday- she hasn't been speaking to me at all."

"Oh," Shiro said, nodding. "Alright."

They stepped out into the cool, fresh air of the city, and went along their way. Shiro suddenly didn't know what he was thinking when he said he didn't need an escort -- Lotor had to point him in every direction and tell him when to turn left or when to turn right. He would have gotten positively lost on his own... and the thought gave him chills considering how easily he'd been recognized during that street fight. Finally, after all those times of being chastised for almost turning the wrong way, the park came into view. Blue yapped and ran ahead, tugging Shiro along in a hurried trot until she'd been able to leap upon the grass. Shiro called to her weakly, trying to get her to calm down in the same manner Lotor had done, but his command carried no effect. After awhile of tugging and useless whistles, Shiro turned to look at the rather amused Lotor, and gave him a sarcastic frown.

"We should go to the dog park -- the fenced in one," he said. "Lance said something about it. Blue doesn't seem very willing to listen to me or the leash. Might as well let her run around, right?"

Lotor glanced at her and shrugged.

"Assuming that you don't trust her off of the leash in an open space, that sounds like the best thing to do," he said, deciding it was best not to call her again. Snapping at her too many times wouldn't do any good and she'd eventually begin to ignore him. So, instead, he just took the leash from Shiro and whistled as he began to the dog park. She turned, yapping, and dashed over. Lotor held the gate open for her and, once she was inside, he had to wrestle with her to hold her close enough to get the leash unclipped. Then, finally releasing her, she turned and bolted off into the park.

Lotor moved to a bench and sat down, gesturing for Shiro to come and join him. "You said that there was more you wanted to know after our conversation this morning. Would you care to elaborate?"

Shiro suppressed a grimace, Lotor's question a frightening surprise. He knew he'd have to face another heavy conversation soon but... but not that soon. It hadn't even been two hours since they last spoke about such topics. Shiro felt his stomach twist with paranoia, but he settled down beside Lotor anyways, wringing his hands together.

"Oh... yeah," he said with an empty laugh. "I kinda forgot about that. There were some questions I still kinda wanted to ask about you and Allura... but then there's this other thing I kinda wanna talk about... that might be kinda hard..."

Shiro sighed, closed his eyes, and held them that way for a moment or so. He collected himself, shook his head a bit, and opened them back up. He kept his gaze focused ahead of him, watching Blue playfully chase a young pit bull in circles, both yapping excitedly in their far off corner of the dog park. "We talked for a while today. I guess you can say we're like... sorta friends? Frenemies, I guess." Shiro added that last joke with a snort, trying to use his forced humor to lift up that heavy feeling in his chest. "I just don't know... I don't know how I'm even able to say that. Every time I look at you... even if it's the softest feeling at the back of my head... all I see is Adam."

The name left his lips, and guilt planted heavily in the base of his gut, growing poisonous tendrils all the way up into his chest and his throat. Shiro swallowed back the feeling, blinked hard, and then started back up again. He placed a hand on his pained stomach as he spoke. "We already talked about it. I already know your side of the story. It's just... seeing Adam die like that... right in front of me..." Shiro trailed off, trying to think about how he could get his point across without diving too deeply into what happened. It was rare he'd speak of such things aloud... and even rarer to be so level headed about it. Usually whenever he would speak of such things around Keith, he'd be bawling in simple seconds.

"It hurt. Real bad. It's a wound of mine that will never heal," Shiro blurted, chewing on the inside of cheek. "And after four years of associating that pain with you... I just... it's hard to just snap my fingers and get over it. I want to... believe me. After hearing what you went through and how much Zarkon made you suffer too... I want to. It's just... a lot. It's why I was so rude to you. It's why I literally almost killed you when you came to help Lance and me. Of course I don't really deserve excuses but... yeah. I just wanted to get that across. I don't hate you. I'm just... weird. And dumb. And..." Shiro hesitated. "And still... hurting, I guess. Sorry I can't just man up and get over it."

Lotor glanced at him and laughed a little.

"What, 'man up' because I accidentally cost you the life of your fiance? Shiro, you have every reason to be pissed off at me, even if I didn't let it happen, even if I've endured hell from Zarkon. My poor timing and my lack of intel meant that I didn't find out about what was happening to Adam until it was too late. You can blame me for it if it helps you cope, but my father was the one who killed your fiance and made it a personal matter instead of strictly a business matter. My father was the one who put you through hell for almost two straight days because he refused to believe that I'd still defy him after years of abuse. He's the one that you should hate."

Lotor glanced around the park for a moment, sighing a little. "But I do appreciate the apology, don't get me wrong. It means a lot to me that you can actually apologise. Hell, Allura still hasn't apologised for what she said to me at breakfast and that was far worse than everything you did out of spite. You're a good person, Shiro. Don't blame yourself for what happened, and although I can't stop you if you do, try not to blame me either."

You're a good person, Shiro.

Shiro didn't mean to sigh, and he didn't mean to slump over in a slouch of pure relief... but the words had been too wonderful to hear. They ran about his head in an echoing mantra, a comfortable warmth blossoming about his system each time they made their full round. "Thank you, Lotor," he murmured, a weak smile tugging at his lips. He lifted a hand to wipe at his eyes, which had grown a bit too hot for his liking, before pulling back to meet his gaze. "I needed to hear that..."

He gave a gently sniffle, and turned back to face the dogs. Blue and her new friend were playing tug-o-war with one of the ropes the dog park supplied. Shiro watched them contently, twiddling his bionic thumb right along with his real one. "But yeah," he hummed. "Hating Zarkon isn't that hard. It's a little weird because of the whole 'he's your boss so you have to respect him' mentality I've had for a while, but... it should be easy once I get far, far away from him..." Shiro trailed off, flicking his eyes to the ground. His brow furrowed, and a sudden question occured to him... one he hadn't really thought about before.

"Lotor... can I ask a kinda personal question?"

Lotor glanced at him. Immediately, he was conflicted. He didn't want Shiro asking anything too prying and 'a kinda personal question' was the subtle way of admitting to wanting to invade any and all kinds of privacy. But, on the other hand, he'd given Shiro personal information before and Shiro had shared plenty with him, too. Before he'd even made up his mind properly, before he could truly consider the pros and cons to every little detail, he just answered.

"Sure," he said, as if it were nothing, despite how his thoughts were suddenly racing. Shiro could ask anything. Shiro could ask about something minor but the answer could encourage him to ask something bigger. He shouldn't be as worried as he was, he knew that, but still he worried. It was one of his most defining features at this point- Lotor Sincline Daibazaal, an avid overthinker. "What is it?"

Shiro hesitated only a moment before letting his question free. "Why don't you just leave the city?" he asked, his tone tentative and easy. "I mean... you're able to send Lance and me away... so why don't you go too? I mean... I don't feel safe here at all. I'm sure it's even worse for you. I know you have Allura and everything, and you're in the Arus mafia -- trust me, if anyone knows how hard it is getting out of a mafia, its me -- but still... wouldn't you just feel better leaving?"

Lotor looked at him for a few moments.

"Zarkon knows I'm here," he said simply. "That's why I'm staying. He's been aware of my living here for... three years and, I think, eight months. I can't leave because he has eyes on this place. He can't kill me because it's a different mafia territory and we have moles that will let me know if he wants to. If I leave, however, I'll be vulnerable. Allura won't be able to protect me. I could go halfway across the world, I could dye my hair and cut it short, I could never show my face in public, but he'd find me and he'd kill me." Lotor, taking a hairband from his wrist, began to pull his hair back and into a loose bun.

He leant back on the bench, deciding that it was better to watch Blue than it was to see Shiro's response to what he was saying.

"If he didn't kill me, then he'd get information from me. As much as I want to say that I would never give up information, I know what he's capable of and he knows who are closest to me. My only options are to stay here, die, or end up back with my father. Does that answer your question?"

Shiro nodded, looking down at his feet. "It does," he said quietly. "I understand the feeling, I guess. If it wasn't for you guys helping me out, I wouldn't have left either." Lotor nodded, mumbling a quiet 'I know what that feels like' before falling silent again.

He gave a soft sigh, and leaned back on the bench. Shiro waited a few moments, still twiddling about his thumbs. He didn't like how dark and dreary the atmosphere was. Their quiet voiced and averted stares made his skin crawl and his teeth grit themselves behind his lips. He needed an icebreaker...

"Alright," Shiro said in a huff. "No more dark and broody. Let's talk about something else for a while." He offered a smile at Lotor, and rose his shoulders a bit. "Now that we're, like, frenemies or whatever-" he paused to give a snort at his overused joke, "we should get to know each other a little better. I, like, know nothing about you."

"I'm afraid that it might be dark and broody," he said with an amused smile. "We both seem to have pretty dark interests. But please, if there is anything you want to ask, then feel free to. So long as I'm allowed to refuse or accept as i please, I don't mind what you ask. And, for each question you ask me, I'll ask one in return. Does that sound fair?"

Shiro pretended to think about it for a moment, giving a sarcastic hum. "I guess that's fair," he said, smirking. Shiro looked off to the side, and actually put his mind to work, trying to brew up a good question. After a moment or so, an idea popped into his mind. "Cats or dogs? Answer this with caution. Your answer might make or break our already delicate friendship." Shiro gave a snicker at that last bit, and awaited his answer.

"Dogs," Lotor said decisively. "But I do love cats. I love both, but I've always found it easier to deal with dogs and to keep them tame. I don't like how unpredictable cats can be- it's what I always found off-putting about Kova, my mothers old cat."

"Understandable," Shiro said, nodding. "Cats are far superior, but I get where you're coming from."

Lotor paused a few moments, humming a little.

"What's your favourite book series?" he asked, deciding that that was a vast topic. And, if Shiro mentioned a series that Lotor hadn't read, it would prove him with a new series to invest in. He'd read everything in the public library several times now, and it was beginning to get boring if he visited when there was no new stock.

Shiro's eyes widened a little bit. "Oh," he said quietly, looking off to the side. "I... don't get to read much anymore. I guess that's gonna change soon, living in a bookstore and all. I uh... I guess I like..." He trailed off as though he didn't know exactly what to say, even if every single space explorer and superhero comic he'd ever read had been tugging at him from the back of his mind. After a few seconds of fumbling, he decided to just cut his losses. "I guess I like... comic books..." he said that last bit in an embarrassed mumble. "For the art, of course!"

Forcefully trying to shake the blush from his features, Shiro moved onto the next question. "Are you a fruity drinks guy? Or do you like hard stuff like WIld Turkey?"

Lotor studied Shiro for a moment, smiling.

"Depends on the day, doesn't it? I'm a little more versatile when it comes to alcohol. Naturally I lean more to hard drinks- whatever gets me drunk fastest is the best to drink after a long day- but I love having nicer, fruity drinks if I'm out for a meal or at a club or if I just want to treat myself. For the taste, fruity drinks, for the alcohol content, harder drinks." He licked his lips, watching as Blue (freshly exhausted) began to trot over. She jumped onto the bench before immediately collapsing onto Shiro's lap, panting heavily, her tail still wagging ever so slightly. "What's your poison?" he asked suddenly, glancing over at Shiro. "Alcohol? Weed? Or something harder?"

Shiro grinned at him. "Ah, hard question," he said in a hum. "As much as I love getting drunk, getting high really helps me out when I'm feeling... bad... you know? Weed is great... like really great. Cocaine and all that jazz is fun... until it all really hits you and you get addicted. But weed? Nice. Love that."

Still smiling, Shiro looked up at the sky. "I haven't gotten high in a while," he said quietly. "It's been like... a week. Ugh." He shook his head, and turned back to Lotor. "Next question. When's the last time you got high?"

"God, I can't remember. At least two months. Allura has been cutting me off. Do you want to get high when we get back? Let Blue back into your room then come with me to my room so that I can get high?" he asked, lifting Blue off of the bench and setting her down on her feet before clipping the leash back on. "After all, I think that I've earned it."

"Woah, really?" Shiro asked, his features lighting up with excitement. "Shit man, that'd be awesome. Your weed has got to be all kinds of good... hell, whatever. As long as it's something I could get a nice high off of."

 

Lotor stood, starting to the gate and simply expecting Shiro to follow him. They would be back in about fifteen minutes and, in about twenty minutes time (provided Allura didn't find him and kill him) he would be smoking weed in his apartment with Shiro.

Shiro followed earnestly on his heels as they made their way back, an excited grin upon his face and a sort of chipper skip in his step. The walk seemed incredibly long -- too long for Shiro's impatient, craving nerves -- but he gave a great sigh and another bright smile the moment their hotel came into view. When they got into the elevator, Shiro told Lotor he'd be a little while -- only a few moments or so -- dropping Blue off so he could check on Lance. Luckily, Lance had been in a particularly deep slumber when Shiro had tip-toed his way into their living room, one that Blue joined him in when she leapt up onto the couch and curled up into a tired ball at Lance's feet. Shiro kissed Lance on the forehead, wrote him a short note (which respectively left out the details about getting high), and then slipped from his apartment with a whispered goodbye to Black. Shiro met Lotor in the hall, and they continued up into Lotor's room.

He made his way in, and, with a questioning gesture towards Lotor, sat upon Lotor's sofa when he was given a nod of permission. He slumped backwards, and gave a long sigh, a smile on his face. "This is gonna be great," he said, his tone heavy with thankfulness. "If you don't tell Lance, I won't tell Allura. Deal?"

Lotor glanced at him. "I won't tell Lance, you don't need to worry," he said with a smile, opening a drawer and rummaging around a little. He lifted up a panel and took out to small baggies of weed and a pack of rolling paper along with a lighter. Then he covered up the loose panel and closed the drawer, handing Shiro his baggie. "Enjoy."

 

He set the rolling paper down on a table, taking a sheet and starting to roll himself a blunt. He settled back in his chair and flicked the lighter until a small flame was able to light the end of his joint. Bringing the item between his lips and taking in a long drag, he felt relief before the drugs had even taken effect. Finally, he would be able to relax. Take a quick break from all the hell he'd been going through lately and take his mind off of Allura once and for all- even if it wouldn't last forever.

Shiro greedily rolled up his own blunt, his fast, experienced finger having it lit and ready in a matter of mere seconds. He brought the blunt to his lips, and inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his chest as long as he could before letting it tumble from his lips and his nose, the milky veil rising in a beautiful puff all the way into the ceiling. Shiro brought a hand up, coughed a little, and sniffed heavily, basking in the smell of ignited weed about him. Graciously, he leaned back, taking another slow, steady drag as he slumped against the backrest of Lotor's sofa.

Oh, that weed was good. It was already taking its effect, the drug's power wrapping up his mind and cradling it into a state of blissful sluggishness. He leaned his head back, and blew out a concentrated stream of smoke from his lips, watching it fade as it twisted up into the air. Shiro let out a little giggle as he watched it, lids a bit droopy as he went for his fourth drag.

"Mm, I was right," he said, a billowing of smoke escaping his lips as he murmured out his words to Lotor. "Your weed is fuckin' killer. Hah! Look at that smoke go!"

Lotor flashed Shiro a lazy, entertained grin, before taking a long drag. He didn't hold the smoke in his lungs for as long as Shiro did, but instead took great joy in making smoke rings in the air. He noted the way that Shiro's voice was no longer heavy or tense, nor full of the underlying hints of sadness that usually plagued him. It was a pleasant change in his demeanour. Lotor never truly saw the problems with getting high- not the ones that Allura would always use in arguments to get him to stop smoking. Not that her arguments ever worked, anyway. He only stopped smoking because she was always on his back for it if he smelled like weed.

"This the best shit you've had, or do I need to step up my game and get some better weed?" he asked Shiro, his eyes shining with amusement as he waited for a response. He loved seeing how Shiro reacted to the drug poisoning his systems. It was endearing to see him so let go.

Shiro laughed again, and held up his hand. "There was this one time," he said, tone drawn out and slurred. He took another drag, nearing the end of his blunt. The smoke did tricks about his lips and nostrils as he spoke, making him giggle some more between his words. "I was invited to this super fancy rich mafia party -- you know, like the type you see on like fuckin' TV and stuff? There were like... a hundred people there. Like big Galra people. Best of the best. There were so many drugs. It was the highest I ever got, I bet. Don't remember a thing. No- I remember one thing. The weed was fucking superb."

"Sadly, I don't think that I can top high-quality mafia weed," Lotor remarked with a lazy grin. "You'll just have to settle for my, uh, above-average non-mafia weed."

"Not a problem. I usually have to get high on scraps and leftovers."

Shiro was on a good high. The edges and corners of his vision were blurred. The seldom color of Lotor's apartment was suddenly bursting and exciting. The texture of the couch beneath him felt realer than anything when he dragged his fingers across his sewn hems and rougher fabric, the sensation of its touch making his head spin. Shiro looked around, grinning a little.

"Do you got any music?" he asked, taking the final, and longest drag of his blunt. It was a bit harder to hold back his coughs for that one, but he got through holding his breath for seven long seconds -- just feeling the sensation in his chest and in his lungs before he let it out in a beautiful billowing shoe of white and grey. "Music would be great right now." Lotor studied him for a few moments before nodding.

"Got a, uhh, bluetooth speaker on that table," he said with a small, amused smile. He opened spotify on his phone and offered it to Shiro. "Choose whatever you want to listen to."

Lotor had already snuffed out the end of his joint, not wanting to be as high as Shiro clearly was. He still had to work after this and he was already going to be killed enough for the lingering scent of weed on his clothes. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble for being too high to get his work done. He pushed away the thoughts of Allura and her judgements with ease, diverting his attention back to his living room. He relaxed, tipping his head back against the couch and closing his eyes, letting out a soft sigh of content. God, it felt good to relax so much.

Shiro scrolled through Lotor's library, simply looking for something with a good beat. He found a song — one laid back and ambient enough to keep him relaxed, but one with enough pulse in it to keep him entertained. The bluetooth speaker was good. It's bass was thumpy and it's sound quality was crisp, quite unlike Shiro's ratty old radio.

He snuffed out his joint on his metal hand, catching the hot ash before it could fall upon Lotor's carpet. He dumped the remains in a nearly used up candle Lotor had sitting on the coffee table after getting a nod from Lotor when he gave his gesturing question. Shiro then settled back upon the couch, and sighed, listening to the music speak to him.

Listening to music while he was high was one of his favorite things to do. Each chord has a meaning to him. Each beat had a purpose. It was all so beautiful to his dazed mind. Even a bad song could transform into a moving symphony of pretty rhythms and pretty sounds. However the songs he chose from Lotor's library were good songs. Ones where Shiro could feel the pulse and nod his head along to it, even sometimes finding the memory to mouth the lyrics, his head laid back and his eyes closed.

"This is great," he hummed when another song ended. "I fuckin' needed this. You fuckin' did too..."

There was a bit more conversation after that. It was rather unimportant conversation, of course. Just a continuation of their 'get to know each other' icebreaker, but with much more giggling and trailing off topic with the two being high and all. Shiro learned that Lotor's favorite color was lavender, and that his favorite animals were snakes. Lotor learned that Shiro's favorite color was black (of course) and his favorite animal was a lion.

Fifteen to thirty minutes of chit-chatting later, and Shiro decided to make his leave. He missed Lance. He missed his apartment. His head was still swimming a bit too harshly, and he wobbled a bit on his feet, but he waved goodbye, and left anyways.

On his way back, Shiro couldn't deny the nice lift of his mood. Of course, part of it had been his high, but... there was something else too... Something angry in his system finally being put to rest.

Finally put to peace.


	31. The Doggy Dilemma

Of course, like always, Shiro's brighter mood didn't seem to last. By the time he made it to his room, the light feeling dimmed. Considerably so.

It dimmed because their apartment door had been wide open. Not half closed, not sitting just ajar, not barely clicked into the doorframe -- wide open. The door knob was even pressed up against the outside wall.

Shiro's high system descended into panic. He rushed forward, scrambling his way on his unsteady feet to the doorway. His previously lidded eyes widened as he scanned about the apartment, gaze instantly locking onto Lance on the couch. Shiro stumbled forward, falling to his knees beside the sofa. His hand found Lance's shoulder, and shook it on impulse.

There was no thought in his mind as he frantically called out Lance's name. "Lance? Hey! Are you alright?" he cried. Shiro's gaze lifted up from Lance, darting about left to right and right to left, in panicked search for an intruder.

And yet- the hotel room was empty.

Not a person had entered. Lance was asleep contently, undisturbed and (thankfully) alive. Well- undisturbed being about to change as he was shaken.

"Nhn-" he whined, managing to look up at Shiro despite how heavy his eyelids felt and how desperately he wanted to stay asleep a little longer. He had been having a wonderful dream- one of Shiro and bookstores and rainy days cuddled up by a fire, watching netflix and wrapped in blankets. "What?" his voice finally came as he pushed himself to sit up, propped up on his elbow as he rubbed his eyes with one hand.

His eyes settled on Shiro, his worried eyes, frantic scanning of the apartment, and the clear relief that flooded over him upon realising that Lance was alive. That he was okay. That he hadn't come to any harm.

"Did something happen...?" he questioned tiredly, yawning, moving his hand from his face to fumble for Shiro's hand. His prosthetic or otherwise- he honestly didn't care. His hazy eyes were settled upon Shiro's face as he pulled him closer. He gave up his attempt to hold Shiro's hand and instead cupped his cheek. Lance's fingertips were surprisingly cold. "And... Shiro, I love you and everything, but if I can smell what I think I can smell, I'm going to kill you. And don't- don't assume you have the upper hand because I'm sick. You'd love me too much to fight back."

Shiro leaned into Lance's hand, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as his body slumped down into a relaxed slouch. Shiro's hand pulled up to Lance's and pressed it into his face, holding Lance's hand there as his terrified system winded itself down. "Shit... Oh thank God you're alright..."

He hadn't realized how frightened he had been until the fear began to ebb away. Shiro couldn't feel that burning twine of dread coiled up about his lungs and his rib cage beneath the heavy rush of shock and adrenaline... but with it all fading he could feel the ghosting pain of his fear. Lance's hand kept him grounded -- focused on something other than that burn. Shiro brought Lance's hand from his cheek to his lips, and pressed a weak kiss to Lance's knuckles.

"The door was open... I didn't know if someone broke in or..." Shiro trailed off, closing his eyes and shaking his head. His lips moved against the cool skin of Lance's hand as he spoke. He disregarded Lance's questioning about his weed smell. "It's alright though. You're alright. I'll close the door and look around to see if anyone stole anything."

"The door was open?" he asked, frowning. He looked around. "Where's Blue?" he pushed himself to sit up- only to hiss in pain at a very sudden headache (again) and lie back down. "Shiro, please go check for Blue. She might have run off and- and..." he wrapped his arms around Shiro. "And then I'd actually kill you..." he pulled away and brought the blanket to just below his eyes so he could give Shiro one final, very much disapproving, look before disappearing beneath them. Then he just stayed there, curled up, and gave no hints that he would re-engage with Shiro.

And Blue missing was a very, very worrying idea. She wasn't only Lance's pet, his closest companion after moving out and someone that he loved very much- she was everything to Lance. She was comforting and even if she rolled around in muck for three minutes before Lance noticed, meaning he had to bathe her (and get covered in water and muck every single time), he loved her. He never raised his voice at her or scolded her until she whimpered.

After every breakup, whenever he was questioning his sexuality, whenever he was frustrated or stressed or whatever because of some bully or excessive paperwork or someone grassed him up in class and got him an hour's detention- it didn't matter. He could always just curl up on the sofa and Blue would jump up next to him, lie down, and lick his face until he smiled. Sometimes, on rare occasion- only if it was really bad- she would give him certain toys from her toy basket. The first time he had mistaken her intent and thrown one of the toys for her to play. She barked (almost scoldingly) at him and brought it back. She ran off to get another and set it down. Then another. Then another. Until she had the whole box of toys for him. Then, the one time that that still didn't work- she had brought him her little box of treats. She'd nudged it until he got one out and she took one and placed it in front of Lance.

She was a surprisingly smart dog.

He loved that damn dog and if she was gone, maybe he actually would kill Shiro for it.

Shiro's eyes widened a little, and he leaned up straight, sitting back on his haunches. His eyes moved about the apartment, a new string of anxiety tying its steady self about his gut in an uncomfortable coil of worry. There was no dog. There was no cat. Shiro stood, gave Lance's blanketed shoulder a soft pat, and went to go close the door. He looked around as he did, the flesh of his cheek now settled between his molars.

When the door was closed, he checked behind the counter. Empty. He checked the hall and the hall's bathroom. Empty. He looked behind the couch and behind the television set. All empty. Frantic again, Shiro then made his way into the master bedroom. His eyes scanned about the floor, and then about the dressers, and then settled their searching gaze on the bed. Not empty.

"Black," he sighed, a bit of flushing relief filling his system. She was lying on an odd clumping of sheets, curled up into one black spot, tail flicking idly as she slept. Shiro gave a gentle smile. Half of his search was complete. Shiro treaded over to her, gave her a soft scratch on her sleeping head, and then sank down to his knees to check beneath the bed.

"Have you seen Blue, baby?" Shiro asked, red tinted eyes squinted as he scoured about the shadow beneath the bed.

Of course, he received no answer.

In one desperate attempt, Shiro turned to the master bathroom. He flicked on the lights, and found it dreadfully empty. The shower was empty. The tub was empty. Hell, he even decided to check behind the toilet. Empty, empty, empty. All of the weak relaxation Shiro had earned from finding Black vanished in a very quick instant.

Blue wasn't in their apartment.

He checked everything one more time. He looked in tightly closed linen closets, and beneath spaces a dog of Blue's size could never fit. Shiro might have even checked the fridge in one of his final, more dismal tries. Shiro stood in the otherwise empty kitchen, his hands on his head. He whispered the word fuck to himself again and again, trying to rack his still hazy mind for answers. For choices.

He thought everything over -- making his own scenario as precise his drugged up mind could muster. Blue had gotten out. She was somewhere in the building... unless she got out on the street somewhere. That last thought merited a bitter fucking shit from his lips. Shiro shook his head and continued working the problem, figuring he was going to have to search through every floor to find her. All alone. And still fairly high.

Dismally, Shiro concluded that he needed some help.

"Oh!" he cried, throwing up his hands. Shiro began making his way door, wringing his hands together as he went. His voice was filled with an obviously fabricated dramatic flare. "She's with Lotor! Forgot about that. Ha, ha. I'll be right back, Lance. Just got to... uh... just got to go get her from Lotor's." Shiro was at the door. He held the knob in his hands, pulling it to a slow close as he slipped away. " Because that's where she is. Lotor's. See ya in a bit, baby. Bye!"

Only a disgruntled groan came as a response.

Shiro made certain the door clicked to a very secure lock before he hurried away to the elevator.

His fist found Lotor's door only moments after he approached it, banging loudly against the sturdy wood. "Lotor! Lotor, hey! I need your help! Like, real fuckin bad!"

The door opened after a moment. Lotor, who had his hair down and messier than usual, was currently holding a bowl of coco puffs. He had his glasses on still, and was now wearing sweatpants and a shirt two sizes too large. His eyes were still noticeably red but he had showered and no longer smelled of weed. He didn't know how long it would be before Allura would come searching for him so he needed to be prepared for when that happened. He'd brushed his teeth before having his cereal so that it wouldn't even linger on his breath.

Aside from his puffy eyes and how spaced out he looked, he seemed much more sober than Shiro.

"What?" he asked, his voice a little drawled out, as he shovelled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "What happened?"

Shiro looked at him, once again gnawing on the inside of his cheek. "Blue. She got out," he said breathlessly, voice much more desperate than what he had hoped for. He was leaning his weight from foot to foot. He was fumbling his hands before him in the most anxious of manners. His eyes shifted from door to door -- from hall to hall -- on keen lookout. Shiro's face was pale and his eyes, already red from his high, were watery. The weed was making things worse than it was -- blew everything out or proportions in Shiro's mind. He was teetering on the precipice of a bad high... which made his heart hurt considering how wonderful his high had been only fifteen minutes ago. Shiro closed his eyes, and shook his head, giving a shaky sigh.

"I can't find her anywhere. I think she's gone. I-... I'm high as fuck Lotor! How am I gonna find her?" Shiro brought his hand up to his temple. A worried grimace pulled at his lips and furrowed his brow. "God. Lance loves that Goddamn dog. What the hell... what the hell am I gonna do? Can you help me?" Shiro opened his eyes and looked up at him. "Please, Lotor, tell me you'll help me."

Lotor looked at him for a few moments.

"I'm high too, Shiro, did you forget that?" he asked as he moved back, backing away and sighing a little. "Will I be able to finish my cereal?" he asked as he moved back, sitting at the breakfast bar and keeping his eyes on Shiro. He gestured for him to come in.

What was he supposed to do? If Blue wasn't in the building, he wasn't willing to spend all of the rest of his day hunting down a dog because Shiro couldn't be responsible for even a single pet. "I'll help you search the hotel, then we're going to go to your room again so that we can tell Lance if we don't find her. Then we will put up flyers and hope that someone has seen her. Okay?"

Shiro nodded, and followed Lotor into his apartment. "That's fine," he said weakly, watching nervously as Lotor sat and ate his cereal.

Shiro folded and unfolded his hands, trying to stay as patient as he could. His skin felt tight. His muscles felt jumpy. His chest felt as though something had been pressing into it, bending his rib cage and flattening his lungs. They needed to take action. They needed to take action as soon as possible. They didn't have time to sit around and wait... even if Shiro had felt his own case of the munchies begin to develop. Finding Blue was too important...

But Shiro held his tongue. He didn't want to piss of Lotor into not helping him. As nervous as waiting made the poor, anxious Shiro, the idea of finding Blue on his own made him feel all the more worried. As did the idea of asking Allura. Lotor was his best option.

"I'm sorry I bothered you," Shiro said quietly in an attempt to remind the very slow Lotor why he was there. "I just didn't know what else to do."

Lotor, with a mouthful of coco puffs, looked up at Shiro. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"I was about to get the box and a carton of milk so I could eat coco puffs while I watch television," he said with a small smile. "A... cheat day, just about. It's something that I used to do when I got high as a... celebration, I suppose." He pushed away his empty bowl and moved off of his stool. He stood, starting to the door. Once more, he pulled his hair back, tied into a loose ponytail. His eyes flickered back to Shiro.

"Let's go. Come on," he said fondly as he watched him, waiting for Shiro to do as told.

He didn't even care about whether or not Shiro joined him. He wanted to look for Blue, either find her or not find her, and tell Lance about the news. If he was lucky, he could get back to his room in about an hour and do as he had planned before the effects had entirely worn off.

Honestly, after the hell he had been through with Shiro, with Allura, with Romelle's surprise visit and Lance's threat- he had needed to get high more than he had realised. And, if he could get away with it, he'd do the same tomorrow.

Shiro followed him hastily, incredibly thankful to get the search rolling. First, the two went back down to Shiro's floor, and thoroughly searched about it. They scoured up and down the halls. They asked the occasional passerby or janitor. Shiro even took it upon himself to look inside each and every closet they passed -- just in case she managed to get stuck in one somehow. Once his floor had been cleared, they moved down to the lobby. Despite Shiro's arguing, Lotor had figured Blue wouldn't know how to ride the elevator up to the next floor, and the door to the staircase was too heavy. He said that if she was in the lobby, she would have rode it down with one of the hotel customers -- and if that was the case, she'd be by the desk with security.

However, the woman at the desk told them there was no dog. The waiters and waitresses at the cafe told them there was no dog. Even the customers Shiro would beg and plead for told him they saw no such dog. Soon, Lotor and Shiro were asked to stop scouring about empty closets and 'harassing' the other customers about a nonexistent dog, and were shooed away to the elevators again. The elevator rose in a dismal silence all the way to Shiro's floor, only breaking when Shiro could give a tremulous sigh, or a weak little curse in his state of worry. When the doors slid open, Lotor moved on forward, but Shiro stood stock still.

He didn't know if he could face Lance with the news. Especially after his lie.

"Do you think he'll break up with me?" Shiro asked weakly, rubbing his irritated eyes. He looked up at Lotor, who'd been holding the elevator doors with an impatient look on his face. "I didn't lose her. She got out while I was at your place. I couldn't help it..."

Lotor studied Shiro's face for a few moments. He sighed a little.

"I doubt it," he mumbled. "It wasn't your fault and we can put up flyers to try to find her as soon as possible. Just go and be honest with him."

He was stood just outside of the elevator, his foot in the doorway. Occasionally, the doors would ding and try to close, only to hit Lotor's foot and open again. "Just get out of the elevator. You two are going to move in together so the less time you spend worrying and the more time you spend apologising, the better. Let's go." Honestly, Lotor wished that he could say he was frustrated for literally any reason aside from Shiro. Currently, all that Shiro had done was pester him and whine about his own stupid mistake. He was frustrating when he was in this kind of a state and- and that was coming from Lotor, who had dealt with unpredictability and sudden bursts of various emotions all of his life.

He just didn't like seeing his friend upset, probably. The only other option was that Shiro was just really annoying.

Shiro sighed, nodded, and left the elevator. The two made their way to the right door, and Lotor stood back while Shiro unlocked it. He pushed the door open with a wince, and peered inside. The couch, to Shiro's great thanks, was empty. No blankets. No pillows. No Lance. Shiro sighed and stepped in, turning around to face Lotor as he closed the door behind him.

"So, uh, Lance is probably in the bedroom so... you wait out here," he said, rising his shoulders a little. "I'm sure he's not gonna be happy..."

Shiro waited for Lotor's disinterested approval, and then moved on, making his tentative way towards the bedroom. He placed his hand upon the knob, took a deep breath, and then let it out as he opened up the door. Shiro slipped inside, his eyes shut tight with his nerves, and pulled the door close behind him. Shiro looked down at his feet, fluttering his eyes open. His face burned with guilt.

"Hey, Lance?" he said quietly, bringing his hands behind his back. "We kinda need to talk-"

Shiro was cut off by a sharp bark from the bed.

He whipped his head up, and blinked his eyes. There she sat -- there that fucking dog sat -- all smiles and tail wags upon the bed. Shiro furrowed his brow, mouth falling open into a slack-jawed gape of total shock. He moved forward a bit, a bitter laugh rising in his throat.

"She's right there!" he said, turning his relieved gaze to Lance, who sat behind his dog. Shiro's start of a smile quickly disappeared at the heavy glare Lance delivered. "Oh, shit. You're angry at me."

"Yeah," Lance muttered sharply. For such a softie, his glare could kill. Fuck, even being caught in such a toxic glare was likely taking years off of Shiro's life with each passing second. "I am. Because you told me Blue was with Lotor. Because I was ill, and tired, and instead of being honest with me- admitting that you went to get high and that you couldn't find Blue, you decided to lie! You decided to tell me she was with someone I barely fucking trust and you expected me to be fine with it!"

Shiro flicked his eyes to the ground, guilt festering in his system. He made no attempt at responding.

Lance slipped out of the bed and (despite swaying a little due to his nausea) made his way to Shiro to jab an angry finger into his chest. It was all so clear in his narrowed eyes.

"Takashi Shirogane, I am extremely disappointed in you, and tonight you're going to be sleeping on the sofa. Am I making myself clear?" he questioned, his voice sharp and laced with malice. "This isn't an argument. It's not up for debate, and no- apologising will not help. You lied to me, made me worry that my dog was dead, smoked weed because- because what? You're stressed? You think you've been having a hard time here? I'm so stressed that I got sick! While you were out on one of your little fucking mafia 'missions', I thought I heard someone knock on the door and I was so stressed that I fainted! I put enough trust into you to let you go out and-"

He took a breath, calmed himself.

When he spoke again, somehow, his voice was far more threatening. Ominously calm.

"And I'm disgusted by your behaviour. You can take your shower now to get rid of that weed-stench but I don't want you to speak to me again. Not until you're sober- so sober, in fact, that your eyes aren't red! That I wouldn't be able to smell a trace of weed if I wanted to!" This was the angriest Lance had ever gotten with Shiro. Lotor, from outside of the room, could hear it all and decided it was best for him to leave, so he opened the hotel room door.

"And don't think that I don't know that you're there!" Came Lance's voice, causing Lotor to tense. He closed the door and peeked around the doorway. Lance's fiery glower latching onto the new subject of his anger. Lotor got the hint and stepped inside, stood next to Shiro. "Your influence on my boyfriend is disgusting. I don't want you to be around him anymore unless I am either present to stop you two from doing anything stupid or I have a valid reason to trust you! I am giving you both one more chance." Lotor watched him a moment and mumbled a 'yes, Lance' under his breath. Lance turned his attention to Shiro and waited for a similar remark. Shiro offered him a weak nod, swallowing hard. Still, he did not speak.

When Lance got it, he continued.

He was far from done scolding them, after all. Shiro had severely damaged his trust and Lotor had encouraged it.

"And I'm going to tell Allura. That's final, no arguing!" he announced sharply, despite how a slight uproar of objections spilt from Lotor's lips. Comments about how Allura already hated him, was sick of him, he was on thin ice with her. Lance didn't care. "You got high, I'm sure without her knowing, pushed your influence onto my boyfriend and got him high, and then you-"

"Lance," Shiro said in a sharp mutter. He almost recoiled at the burning gaze Lance had flicked towards him at the quiet statement. It took a moment or so for him to continue. "He didn't influence me at all. Lotor has nothing to do with it. Please... just keep Allura out of this. Their relationship is none of our business."

"What, so he didn't offer you anything? He didn't supply the weed? Did you- did you go out of your way in a territory that isn't yours, where you could be killed, just to get something to smoke? No. You didn't. He offered, and you accepted, am I right?" He asked a question but held his hand up to keep Shiro from answering before he could even open his mouth. He already knew he was right. "No. No, don't bother. I don't want to hear it. I'm telling Allura because the one thing I expected from you, Shiro, was honesty! Instead, you lie to me about getting high, you lie to me about the safety of my fucking pet, and now you try to make it out like I'm in the wrong for being upset!"

"That's not what I-" Shiro started to argue, but he was cut off rather swiftly by Lance and his anger.

"Shiro," he hissed sharply. "I don't want to hear it." He grit his teeth, snapping his fingers. Blue jumped from the bed, holding Black in her mouth. Lance pushed between the two of them and opened the bedroom door. He left, leaving the two guilty men in the bedroom.

He didn't leave yet. He didn't go to Allura. He needed to figure out what to say and, judging by the hot tears rolling down his cheeks, making his eyes burn, he needed to go somewhere private first. There was a second bathroom here. Well, a toilet. It was only one metre by two metres, so Lance went in, shut and locked the door, and sat with his back to it. And, curled up into a ball, blaming himself for everything, he held Blue and he cried.

Why couldn't Shiro have just been honest? Had he done something wrong? Was he too cruel or sharp or rude? Had he said the wrong thing one too many times and now Shiro didn't want to be honest with him? Was it a trust thing? Was it just Shiro being intimidated?

Either way, it terrified him. He didn't want to be that kind of a boyfriend.

He just didn't like Shiro doing drugs- but he would be lying if he said that that was a bigger deal to him than the little fucking lie about Blue. God, why couldn't he just care a little less? He needed a break from his own thoughts.

Shiro and Lotor stood for a few moments, completely silent. Shiro stared into the ground, unblinking. It took him a good while to find his words... but the moment he did, they rolled seamlessly from his lips.

"Surprise surprise, " he muttered distantly, shaking his head. "Takashi fucks up everything to shit yet again. I bet everyone's just as God damn shocked as I am." His voice was quiet, but his voice was dark. Dark and fogged with the blooming sorrow of his own bitter hatred.

Shiro nodded to the door. His movement was slow and forced, as if his suddenly heavy head didn't want to move for him. "You should go, Lotor. Sorry I dragged you into this fucking mess in the first place."

"Yeah," Lotor muttered. "I'm going to go and pack in case Allura decides that that was the last straw," he murmured, turning and heading out of the door, closing it behind him.

Shiro didn't respond to Lotor, or watch Lotor go. He kept his dull stare on the floor before him, eyes growing darker and darker as the seconds ticked on and the thoughts swirled further. He heard the bedroom door click to a close, and then he heard the apartment door click to a close. With every click the apartment seemed to grow all the more quiet. With every click, Shiro seemed to grow all the more lonely.

He didn't care.

Lance had never yelled at him like that. Of course, there was the night of their first fight... but that was different. That wasn't real. That was all just pent up stress and worry and confusion. That... what had just happened... it was new. It wasn't just anger. It was disappointment.

It was disgust.

The word made Shiro's stomach turn, like he was going to vomit. It wasn't too far fetched an idea -- he had gotten high on a fairly empty stomach. He could feel the bile rise up in his throat like acid. He could feel his stomach churn and his legs wobble. But Shiro closed his eyes and swallowed it all back, a tight grimace on his face. He wasn't going to throw up. He was already the epitome of a pitiful mess. He didn't want to give Lance another reason to be so disgusted with him.

Shiro didn't know what to do. He felt like crying... but the idea gave him hives. He felt like talking to Lance... but he had no words to say. He felt like wallowing about in his own self loathing some more, maybe spiral into a panic attack or something... but he was so sick of hating himself. He felt like leaving the room and not coming back for a good, long while... but he was too tired. Oh, all of a sudden he seemed so incredibly tired. Standing there with his eyes closed and his system so incredibly numb, Shiro felt as though he could fall asleep standing.

So... that was what he could do. Shiro turned around and made his dazed way forward. He went out into the living room. There was no sign of Lance anywhere, so he figured he must have already gone down to greet Allura. Shiro walked to the couch, and laid down on his side. No blanket. No pillows. Just him and the stiff cushions of the couch. He closed his eyes, gave a slow exhale, and tried to rest.

The apartment was quiet. Quiet aside from the white noise, of course. The heat gurgled on behind the walls... The sounds of the city thrummed about behind the large windows... A clock that hung on a wall in the kitchen gave its reliable clicking ticks of sound... the ice maker grumbled in the freezer... quiet gasps and whimpers sounded out through the muffling door of the hall bathroom...

Wait.

Shiro's eyes opened up, fluttering to a squinted sort of half gaze. His brow furrowed, and his tired ears strained themselves. Sure enough, he heard it again. A badly stifled sob. A cough. A gasp or two. Shiro pushed up from the couch, and listened harder, making sure he hadn't just cooked up the sounds with his own unstable head.

They came from the bathroom. Shiro could hear all those sounds of exasperated sorrow when he listened for it. He turned to look at the bathroom, and rose a hand to touch at his temple -- the one that had been pounding ever since he 'lost' that damn dog. Shiro listened some more, each moment confirming his blooming fear.

Lance was all alone, crying in the bathroom.

A heavy dilemma presented itself. Shiro wanted to help. He was obligated to help. Never ever could he let Lance cry like that. Never. It was unethical. It was inhumane. It was absolutely vile to let a man as wonderful and important as Lance sob all alone on some cold linoleum floor. The mere thought made Shiro's skin crawl and his teeth grind behind his frowning lips.

But could he help Lance? Could he help a man who was so utterly disgusted with Shiro and his presence? Surely his approach would just make Lance feel worse. Fuck, it was Shiro's fault Lance had been crying in the first place. Lance probably wanted nothing to do with him. Lance probably hated him right then and there, sitting on that cold floor. He probably hated the man that caused all those tears and all those sobs.

Lance probably didn't want to see a man he hated...

But he... he had to help Lance. Lance never shied away from helping Shiro. Never. Not when Lance had entered Shiro's room to help with his nightmare, despite Shiro's warning to never set foot in the place. Not when Lance had seen Shiro covered in the blood of a police officer, and needed to sniffle and cry about his dead fiance. Not when Lance was drunk of his ass and Shiro had gotten yelled at by Lotor. Not ever. Never. It didn't matter if Shiro thought Lance hated him or not.

Lance needed help. Lance needed someone.

Shiro needed to be Lance's someone for once.

 

Without thinking, Shiro stood up, and made his way towards the bathroom. He didn't try the doorknob. He was sure it was locked. Instead, he sank down to sit with his legs crossed in front of the door. Shiro was quiet for a moment or so, just listening to Lance sob his heart out. It took a few moments for him to raise a hand to knock on the door. When he did, they were three wildly delicate knocks with only one knuckle. Shiro heard Lance's breath hitch, and offered his own weak cringe.

He spoke up anyways. "I know you don't want to talk to me," Shiro started quietly in a rather dismal tone. "I know I messed up. I know I don't deserve to be anywhere near you right now. But I can hear you hurting Lance. You shouldn't hurt alone. You need someone. Everything hurts ten times worse when you're alone." Shiro gave a soft sigh, and leaned his head forward against the wood of the door. "I'm not saying you need to talk to me. I'm just saying I'm here. I'm just saying you're not alone right now, okay?"

There were a few moments of heavy, tense silence. Regret began to bloom- had it been the wrong choice to speak to him? God knows that everything could be thrown off course if Shiro said the wrong thing now; at such a crucial moment.

Then the door clicked. Unlocked. And, after a moment, it opened a crack. Lance peered out, looking at Shiro as if he expected him to be making some joke out of this, filming with his phone or stifling a laugh or something to indicate that this was just a cruel joke. It took him a few moments but the door did eventually open and Lance, shuffling over as he had yet to get up, slipped onto Shiro's lap.

He wrapped both arms around his neck and burst into sobs again, pressing as close as he could. He hated the smell of weed on Shiro's shirt and it only made him cry more but the dull, lonely ache in his chest had gone. He gripped tighter. His nails dug into Shiro's shoulders as he held him, an attempt to stop them from trembling so much despite how his whole body was racked with sobs. His mind was a mess. He wanted to stay with Shiro but part of him said he was going back on his word, that he wasn't trustworthy because of it, that he should just slap Shiro and get on with it himself.

But he couldn't bear to let go of him. Not for even half a second. Not long enough to pull away from the crook of Shiro's neck and apologise for his humiliating display of emotion.

He couldn't even bring himself to speak. He just held Shiro, clinging to him like his life depended on it, trembling and sobbing and wailing. He couldn't believe that Shiro was content with letting Lance cry on him. Shiro was never good with emotions- as had been proved the first time that Lance burst into tears around him, when the news had come on.

Was it okay for him to be selfish right now? Selfish enough not to care whether or not Shiro wanted Lance clutching onto him, digging his nails in, trembling and barely able to breathe.

The comfort that Shiro provided with the arms wrapped around Lance's waist was too overwhelming for him to want to refuse, to pull back and check whether or not Shiro wanted Lance to be sat on his lap, likely cutting off the circulation to his feet due to Shiro being cross-legged, whether or not Shiro wanted Lance to cry against his neck and his shirt, staining it with tears, digging his nails in and risking leaving holes in it.

Surely he could be selfish for just a little bit. Just until he felt better.

He really needed it.

Luckily, Shiro didn't really mind much at all. He didn't mind the numbing static that deadened his feet and legs. He didn't mind the large stain of tears cooling upon his shirt and sticking to his skin. He didn't mind Lance's tight hold or digging fingernails. He didn't mind anything.

Shiro knew Lance needed it too.

Shiro didn't say much -- he knew Lance was in no state to respond. There was a soft shushing there, and a quiet 'it's alright' here, but nothing more. He didn't tell Lance to stop or tell Lance to calm down. He certainly didn't try to push Lance off of him. Shiro just was going to let Lance cry himself out all over Shiro's neck and Shiro's shirt. It was important to do that every now and again. To cry yourself out to the point of exhaustion. At least Shiro thought it was some sort of therapeutic. Even if it was unhealthy, no one could deny how good it felt to cry.

After a long while of sitting, and after Lance's heavier sobs had ironed out into gentle gasps and weak whimpers, Shiro moved one of his hands -- the prosthetic -- up to Lance's head. His movements were delicate and gentle. His tentative fingers pushed themselves into Lance's hair and began to slowly comb through it. His other arm held a little tighter around Lance's waist with it being his only support and all, but Shiro still make sure he knew his limits. He was already crossing a line by speaking to him -- let alone touch him like that.

Some more time passed in that new position, and Shiro waited until Lance's harsh gasping had become gentle sniffles before taking his next big risk. "Would you like me to take you to bed?" he asked in a voice just barely above a whisper. Shiro expected to hear no answer... but he knew not to do anything until Lance had answered. He wouldn't move him without his permission.

Lance gave a tired, weak nod.

His sobbing and wailing had now reduced to nought but sniffles and occasional tears. He wanted to get to bed, get wrapped up in blankets with Blue on his lap and Black curled up into a little ball and he wanted Shiro to keep holding him even if he didn't want to fucking talk to him. It was all so confusing. His head wanted to be alone and without Shiro but everything else ached to stay with him, in his arms (arm and a half?) and just cling to him like his life depended on it. No matter how angry he had been, Shiro was everything to him.

He didn't want to be on his own again, no matter how angry he was. And now, Shiro was going to take him to bed and Lance would snatch up the room service menu on the way past so he could finally, finally, get something to eat. He felt like he could stomach something. He didn't want to go without eating something.

Shiro nodded back, murmured a gentle 'okay', and pulled his arm back down. He stood slowly, much more focused on Lance in his arms than the sudden wobbling of his legs. One of his knees buckled and Shiro stumbled a bit, his shoulder bumping the wall. Luckily, Lance seemed alright — just a little jostled — but Shiro's face still lit up in a bright blush.

"Shit- sorry," he murmured as he steadied himself. "My legs are asleep."

Without any more stumbling, Shiro made his careful way the bedroom. He opened the door with one awkward hand, and then closed it with his foot. He carried Lance to the bed, settled him down in his spot, and pulled away. It was suddenly incredibly cold without Lance pressed up against him, br Shiro ignored it. He took hold of the blanket and pulled it up to Lance's chin, and then stood straight. Blue and Black hopped up onto the bed, curling up where the could. Somehow, Shiro's spot seemed incredibly empty.

Shiro turned his eyes to the floor.

"I'll be on the couch if you need me," he murmured quietly. Shiro began to turn away his hand dragging on the blanket. "Just call if you need anything. I'll be listening."

Lance looked up at him, eyes wide, worried. He snatched his hand and tried to pull him back, bringing him close. "No," he mumbled, his throat dry and his voice quiet. "Don't- Don't leave. Please, I- I want you to stay here," he mumbled. He took the menu from the bedside table. He leant against him as soon as Shiro was close enough and pressed a soft, hesitant kiss on the back of his hand.

He hoped Shiro would stay. He released his hand and shifted over a little to indicate that he wanted Shiro to sit next to him, and began scanning the menu.

Shiro, reluctant and guilty, settled down slowly in the space Lance had provided. He felt dirty, sitting next to Lance like that. He felt like he was taking advantage of Lance's emotions — evading his earned punishment all because he made Lance cry. It made Shiro's skin crawl as he moved closer to Lance... but he still moved closer. He wasn't going to leave. Idly leaning into him, Lance had to refrain from slumping against Shiro and falling asleep there and then. Later. It would wait until a little later. For now, he needed something to eat.

Lance didn't know how much money they had, still assuming that they had their full budget- two hundred, as Allura had told him before- so he was planning on getting what he wanted, taking one of the hotel sticky notes and beginning to note down what he wanted and how much it costed.

"Am I allowed to get drunk?" he mumbled to Shiro, wanting to at least get a second opinion. Sure, it wasn't the smartest decision to take while drunk, but Shiro had said that there was no rush on them leaving so he could afford to risk an extra sick day in order to get drunk tonight.

He really just wanted to stop thinking so much. Then again, he also wanted to talk this out with Shiro and doing that while drunk wasn't the best idea. He was definitely an emotional drunk.

Shiro gave him a look, but only held it for a brief second. "I wouldn't get drunk..." he trailed off knowing the second part of his sentence wasn't exactly the safest to say in that moment. Telling Lance that it was better to get high would certainly end in flames. Shiro closed his eyes and shook his head a little. "But if you want to, that's fine. I just don't want you getting sick."

He brought he hand back up to Lance's head. Shiro's fingers moved in an almost lackadaisical manner through Lance's hair. He brushed it to one side, and then to the other, and then back. He watched as Lance scribbled down his order, nervously wondering if he should have told Lance about their budget cut... but he didn't care too much about it in that moment. It wasn't too big of a deal to him right then and there. Allura would just have to deal with it.

"What are you getting? Do you feel good enough to eat?" Shiro asked quietly. His stomach gave a rather inconsiderate grumble in the moment, munchies presenting themselves in the worst of moments. Shiro gave a soft frown, and put a hand on his stomach, blush rising up to his cheeks once again. He tried to disregard it. "If you get alcohol, make sure you get a lot of water, okay?"

Lance grumbled a little but nodded, rubbing his eyes.  
"Okay," he muttered as he pushed the menu to Shiro. "Choose what you want. I've noted down what I want," he mumbled as he showed Shiro the sheet. "We can share the garlic bread and the cheesy fries," he said with a small smile, leaning over to peck Shiro's cheek as he took ahold of his hand. "I love you," he mumbled. "We- We need to talk about today, though, because I..." he rubbed his eyes. "I don't like that you did any of what you did today and I know I've already scolded you but we need to talk about it. Properly."

Shiro nodded gently, running his eyes along the menu before flicking them back up to Lance. "I love you too," he said quietly, swallowing hard. "And okay. Of course. We can talk about it. I promise."

He gave a soft sigh, and set the menu down. Shiro picked up Lance's sticky note, and read through it, too, adding up the amounts in his head. They were fifteen dollars below their budget... but Shiro didn't know if Lance would want anything to eat later. He gave a soft sigh, and rose his shoulders.

"Garlic bread and fries should be just fine," he hummed. "I don't need anything else." He paused... incredibly hesitant. Shiro's stomach grumbled again. "Let's get two orders of garlic bread... just in case." Lance nodded.

"You can have mine if you're still hungry, too," he said softly. He pressed a kiss to his cheek again before pulling typing in the phone number and passing the phone to Shiro. "There, you can order," he mumbled as he lay down, head resting on Shiro's lap. "My throat hurts enough as it is..."

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, whimpering a little as he wiped his eyes, trying to prevent any more tears from escaping. He didn't like that Shiro still smelled of weed. "And while we wait for the food, you can go and shower."

Shiro gave the softest huff of a laugh, and nodded again. "Of course," he mumbled, waiting for the ringing of the phone to stop.

After a moment or so, the kitchen answered his call, and Shiro ordered. He read off Lance's list into the phone, offered a gentle thanks, and then hung up when their order was taken. Shiro set the phone down on the table, and turned to Lance. It took a long moment or so of consideration before he leaned in and pressed a very reluctant and tentative kiss upon his forehead. Shiro then slipped out of bed, said a gentle goodbye to Lance, and made his way into the bathroom.

Despite his desperate want for a very long and very contemplative shower, Shiro didn't take too long at all. He didn't want to keep Lance waiting. He didn't want Lance to be alone. He washed his hair, he washed his body, and then he turned the shower off. He dried himself off quickly, and snuck into the bedroom for a shirt and some pants. He got dressed in the bathroom, figuring Lance would have preferred it that way. Shiro then left back to the bed, and settled rather slowly into his spot beside Lance. His shower had been so quick, he had beaten the delivery service.

"Is that better?" Shiro asked with a weak smile, gesturing himself. His hair was still damp, and he smelled of the sweet soaps of the hotel. He hoped it was better...

Lance looked up at him, smiling a little. "Much," he admitted, moving over and deciding to settle between Shiro's legs, his head resting on the male's stomach as he closed his eyes and lay there, content. He just wanted to stay there and relax. Shiro was like a big pillow but strong enough to lift you up. He looked up at him, hands settling on Shiro's waist.

"Was there any estimate to how long it'll take before room service gets here?" he asked, raising one hand to begin brushing some of Shiro's wet hair out of his face. "And do you know how long your hair has gotten? Are you going to cut it again or do you want to grow it out?"

Shiro gave a soft laugh. "I'll cut it," he said decisively. "Won't shave down the sides all the way again, but I'll cut the bangs a little shorter. That's how I used to wear it back in highschool."

He let his hands find Lance's hair as well, an amused yet wan smile upon his face. "What about you? Are you going to cut it, or grow it out into a mullet?" Lance stuck his tongue out.

"Ew, no, never. I'll cut it. And you know what? I might shave some of it, just because you won't. Do you think I'd look good with an undercut?" he asked, giving Shiro a playfully dashing grin as he settled back down on his chest. "I'll talk to Allura about haircuts. I think Coran could give them- he's qualified to do... basically everything."

"Oh, you'd look just dashing with an undercut," Shiro said with a dreamy sigh.

Lance smiled fondly as he got comfier, sinking a little further under the blankets, about to get entirely comfy by snuggling up to Shiro- when the door was knocked on, signalling the arrival of their room service. And, with that, he had to lift his head up and pull away from Shiro enough to let him fetch their food. It was nice to get along with him again so soon.

Shiro stood from the bed and made his hurried way to the door. He took the two large platters from the hotel employee, thanked the man with a charming smile, and carefully walked back to the bedroom. Shiro set the dishes down in the dresser, took off their silver coverings, and gave a long, satisfied sigh at the smell of garlic and melted cheese. Shiro grabbed a basket of garlic bread, the cheesy fries, two bottles of water and then whatever Lance had ordered for himself. It looked to be some sort of sandwich. He brought them all over, and sat down onto the bed.

"Here's your, uh, whatever it is you got, and then the cheese fries and the bread," Shiro said, setting down each item as he listed it off. He didn't hesitate reaching for a piece of garlic bread, the taste simply delectable as it spread across his tongue and crunched between his teeth. His next question was asked through a mouthful of bread. "Would you like your drinks now?" Lance smiled a little.

"Maybe some water, first," he said with a small warm smile, running one hand through his hair. He looked better today. Still sick, clearly, but all of that time spent sleeping it off was clearly taking effect and he was a little less pale, a little less warm.

He turned his attention to the food and greedily grabbed at the fries first. He began to eat, finally feeling the hunger that he'd not felt since he'd gotten sick. He was considerate though- well, considerate enough to leave Shiro a couple of fries before turning his attention to the garlic bread- the next victim of his hunger.

He wasn't even savouring the taste, too hungry to linger on how delicious the food was, how it was cooked to perfection- how the crispiness of the fries weren't outweighed by the cheese. He leant against Shiro, closing his eyes, contently starting to devour the garlic bread next. He then turned his focus to his sandwich- a BLT with hot sauce, like he had had on one of their first nights there He only got halfway through it, though, his stomach too full. Instead, he slid it onto Shiro's plate so that he could finish it for him and lay down on the man's stomach again. He was comfy, and with the contentedness of finally having a full stomach, he was just about willing to fall asleep.

"You were hungry, huh?" Shiro said with a tired chuckle. He passed Lance one of the bottles of water they had ordered, and then graciously scooped up the remains of Lance's BLT. It was delicious, like the one he had a few nights before. Shiro absentmindedly played with Lance's hair with his free hand as he ate.

"If, uh, you want to sleep, you can," Shiro said quietly after a few moments. He had noted Lance's obvious listlessness. "We can... we can talk when you wake up? Unless you want to before you sleep. In that case..." Shiro trailed off, raising his shoulders a bit. "I don't think we have a lot of time before you pass out."

He was trying to keep the atmosphere light. Of course it was going to darken in a bit. Considerably so. But he would try to keep it as light as he wanted for as long as he could.

"I won't want to sleep if we don't talk about it," he said softly. "But... I think I should sleep and get a little more level-headed before anything else."

He rubbed his eyes a little, moving a little closer to Shiro and wrapping his arms around his neck. He sighed softly, rubbing his eyes. "Okay. We can talk about it in the morning, but I want a straight story- no lies or excuses, okay?"

Shiro nodded, suddenly solemn. "Of course, Lance," he swore. "I'll just tell you everything. No bullshit. Just the straight story."

He moved one of his arms to rest beneath Lance's head, letting the muscle provide as a pillow. Shiro turned to lay on his side, body curled up a little so his face leaned in towards Lance's, and their legs could tangle beneath the covers. Shiro gave a soft sigh, and lifted his other hand to cup Lance's cheek, wishing he could feel Lance somehow through the cool steel of his very inanimate fingers. Oh, how suddenly jealous he became of those who had both their arms. Who had both their hands. Shiro yearned to feel Lance's skin beneath his fingers — beneath all his fingers. To cup his head with both his hands and just be able to feel him there in his hold. Shiro gave Lance a sad frown, brow furrowed and eyes rounded with guilt and longing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never wanted you to cry. I shouldn't have lied. I shouldn't have even left you in the first place. That's all I'm going to say for now. I'm sorry."

"I appreciate it," Lance responded idly. "But please, let's talk about it tomorrow..."

Lance looked diverted his attention onto the wall opposite him. He sighed softly, pressing a little closer to Shiro as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. He curled up, closing his eyes. Blue had been sent to the floor while they ate so Lance tapped on the bed and she leapt back up- Black held between her jaws yet again. She released the cat and Lance lifted the blanket for her to lie beside him. Black, her tail flicking back and forth, moved over to Shiro and settled down beside him. She butt her head against his cheek and purred happily, having missed him.

Shiro leaned into her head, but he didn't take his hand from Lance's face. He hummed a little hello to her, but stayed quiet, letting Lance rest. Shiro watched him for a moment or so, waiting until his unsteady breaths ironed themselves out into the long, even sighs of slumber. When they did, Shiro closed his own eyes, and gave his own sigh, relaxing into the mattress. His hand remained on Lance's face — he couldn't feel it there of course, but he knew it stayed. He wouldn't take it away.

It took only a few more minutes of lying there listening to Lance breathe before Shiro melted away into his own sleep.

The alcohol was left untouched.


	32. Discussions, Discussions

In the morning, Lance awoke. His head hurt, his throat was sore, but he felt better. Better for eating, for drinking, for relaxing. He was feeling much healthier now. He managed to get up without disturbing Shiro to the point of waking him up and showered- a quick, warm shower- before ordering some breakfast. He wanted to spend as much time relaxing, seeing how much he could do without getting too dizzy or nauseous, while Shiro slept.

Honestly, he just didn't want to do anything just yet. He wanted to distract himself from his thoughts of Shiro and drugs and how angry he still was at him.

Shiro woke up while Lance was in the shower due to the lack of warmth, but he slipped back into a much more delicate slumber in just another few moments. He was in a light sleep when Lance came back and ordered breakfast, stirring only slightly when he heard Lance's voice in his head.

He almost believed it to be a dream...

But it wasn't. Shiro felt the bed sink down with Lance's weight, and properly woke himself up. He rolled over onto his back and stretched out a little, grumbling something incoherent beneath his breath. Shiro fluttered his eyes open, and lifted his groggy head, catching sight of Lance sitting at the corner of the bed, turned away from him. A pinch of guilt bit at his sleepy system, and Shiro frowned to himself. He laid his head down again and watched the ceiling, wondering if it would be alright to just fall back to sleep. Shiro's eyelids were heavy enough, and his body was certainly comfortable enough. He gave a soft sigh and turned back onto his side, groping for a pillow he could push his head into. The room was a bit too bright for his liking.

Lance felt Shiro's hand find his own. Unintentional, of course, but nonetheless Shiro's had pawed around at the bed and this was the result. Having gained his attention, Lance turned to look at Shiro, taking ahold of his hand. "Morning, sleepyhead," he said softly as he shifted down to lie beside him.

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine," Shiro said in a sleepy hum, closing his eyes. "How about you?"

He rubbed his eyes a little, cupping Shiro's cheek and leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. "Not too bad. Oh- but don't you dare go back to sleep. You slept more than I did, and we need to talk. I'd rather not have you go back to sleep to procrastinate this talk." he leant in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Breakfast is on it's way."

Shiro gave a soft grin at Lance's kisses, but felt the soft churning of his gut at the mention of their talk. He fluttered open his eyes, and slowly pushed up on his elbows, lifting a hand to yawn into his fist. "I'm not falling asleep," he murmured. "What's for breakfast? Nothing too expensive?"

Oops. Shiro suppressed a cringe. He shouldn't have mentioned that.

Oh well. It was only a matter of time before you had to tell him.

"Did Allura tell you? She, uh, cut our budget down a bit," he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "She got pissed at me for going out with Lotor. He took me to a payphone to call Keith — I told you that, didn't I? Whatever. It's fine if we go over though. I talked to Lotor about it."

"You didn't tell me about her cutting the money. How much did she cut it by?" he asked as he brought Shiro to sit up. "God, why didn't you tell me this? I think it's pretty important for you to have told me!"

"You were sick..." Shiro said with a soft shrug. His tone was strained with a heavy guilt. "You were either asleep or falling asleep. I couldn't find a right time. Besides, I didn't want to worry you... I was handling it..."

He trailed off, chewing on his cheek.

"It's down to a hundred now," he muttered quietly. "But Lotor told me that if we go over it's fine. He'll cover it."

"And you just let him?" he asked, frowning a little. "Shiro, come on, if you want a punishment then you can't pick and choose by letting people save you from certain problems."

He moved back a little, folding his arms over his chest. "Sit up, Shiro, we need to talk about this. Please, stop- stop picking and choosing what to talk about and when." He sighed a little and brought himself to sit properly. Blue had been awoken by their talking and poked her nose out from under the blanket, pressing her cold and wet nose against Shiro's chin and starting to lick his face. Lance smiled. How cute and really quite funny. He could only see her muzzle from under the blanket and Shiro's grimace as he tried to turn away from the kisses.

Shiro frowned a little, looking down at the bed. He reached a hand up and rubbed at Blue's head. "I know," he murmured quietly. Shiro gave a soft sigh, and gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders. "I... I've always been like this Lance. I keep things to myself. Having someone I care about makes things... weird. I get weird. It was weird with Adam too."

Lance nodded a little to acknowledge that he was listening- even as Shiro kept his stare focused on the bed sheets, memorizing the soft, threaded pattern imbedded in the silk fabric. He didn't interrupt, wanting Shiro to continue. Shiro still pet Blue, running his fingers and his blunted nails up and down her fur, earning a satisfied smile from her happy muzzle, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth. Oblivious.

"I... shit Lance... I don't know what to say..." he mumbled, rambling. "Me apologizing isn't going to help. Me saying I want to change isn't going to help. Me saying I can't change is even worse. I just... it's been a while since I've been in this situation, you know? I don't know how to explain myself anymore. I'm so fucked up... that's all I know. Years of lying to my parents, years of lying to Adam, years of lying to myself. It all just fucked me up. I'm sorry you have to deal with it over and over again. You shouldn't."

Lance watched him for a few moments. He cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Shiro, I get it. You were in the mafia, for fucks sake, you had to lie. Even before then, I don't doubt that you had to lie to everyone you knew, but- But I love you. I'm not here for you to lie to. I trust you, Shiro, and I have done since you saved my life- but you have to trust me!"

He sighed a little. "And what about now? You lied to me about my dog, and you didn't tell me that you were going to get high. Shiro, you know that I hate that you smoke weed but I would rather you told me before you did anything." He cupped Shiro's cheek. "Having you smoke weed is better than having you lie to me. I likely won't ever approve of you smoking weed, but I'm not going to be in a relationship where I can't trust my boyfriend."

Offering a small smile, Lance pressed another kiss to his forehead as Blue wriggled out from under the covers. She got up and curled up around Black, instead, licking the top of her head and listening to her happy purrs. "Can you promise me that you won't lie to me again?" he asked, holding up his pinkie finger.

Shiro watched Lance's pinkie finger for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Could he promise Lance that? Could he uphold that promise? Shiro didn't want to let him down... God, the thought made just made his skin crawl. What if he promised and then messed up again? A broken promise would hurt more than a denied one... or... or would it? Shiro closed his eyes, rose his hand, and linked their pinkies.

"I... I promise, Lance..." he murmured, nodding his head. Shiro fluttered his eyes open, and gave Lance a fond look. "I trust you more than anyone in the world, Lance. I know my actions haven't really showed that but... I do. You're just so important to me. I don't ever want to see you worry... even if lying to you probably just makes you feel worse..."

Shiro pulled Lance's hand up, and pressed a gentle kiss upon the knuckle of his pinkie. "It won't happen again," he said quietly. "Pinkie promise."

"Pinkie promise." Lance's face split into a wide grin and he pulled Shiro close- about to kiss him when he realised his was ill and instead dove into his neck. He started kissing Shiro's neck instead, beaming. "Thank you so much," he said as he held onto him, pulling back after only a couple of moments. "This means the world to me, Shiro. Truly."

He pulled back, looking at the two pets curled up on the messy duvet. Blue was curled up into a doughnut with Black curled up in the doughnut hole. Blue licked her back and her forehead and occasionally let out a soft bark or a quiet howl, which Black responded to by meowing at various pitches. Lance's heart melted- he couldn't bring himself to pet either of them and interrupt.

Shiro watched the two pets for a moment, giving a soft laugh before shaking his head. "I never thought those two would ever get along," he said in a chuckled sigh. He leaned back on the bed, looking off to the side. His smile faded a bit. "But, uh, speaking of never getting along... we kinda have to talk about Allura and Lotor."

He blew a long breath through his lips, wondering how to put his next few statements. "You're... you're not really going to tell Allura, are you?" he asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs together in his lap. "He was just trying to help me out. I'm the one who started talking about weed in the first place. He shouldn't get any shit for it. Him and Allura are already on thin ice... you didn't see the way they screamed at each other yesterday. They don't deserve another reason to argue."

Lance frowned.

"Look," he said softly as he turned to face him. "I feel like I should tell her. Not only did the two of you get high without her permission, but her job is to stop the two of you from doing anything like that. Shiro- what reason do I have not to tell her? I want to tell her. And- And I'm still annoyed at you for doing that. I want you to tell me what made you so desperate to smoke?"

It wasn't his concern whether or not Lotor and Allura got along. He was just trying to look after his boyfriend and be a good boyfriend and Shiro just didn't want to accept that.

Shiro blushed a little. "I wasn't desperate..." he murmured, a bit embarrassed. "We were talking... and I told him about how I still felt about Adam... and then we talked some more... We were both stressed and we were both still sorta bonding. I complained that I haven't gotten high in a while, and then it just kinda happened from there."

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know you were a police officer and everything, Lance, but getting high makes me happy. It's relaxing. It's a break from my own head," he explained quietly. "Is it the most healthy therapy? No, not really, I guess. But it is therapy. I smoke. Cigarettes and weed. Weed is better and natural, so that's my go to, man. That's... that's certainly not something I'm willing to change right away. You can understand that, right? I need you to understand that..."

"Yeah, of course I understand! When I was in college, I tried to smoke a cigarette. My roommate smoked all the time and one time I got curious and tried it. He smoked because he couldn't handle his exams without using it as a coping method. I get it! Not from personal experience, but I get it!" He took his hand, pressing a kiss to Shiro's knuckles. "But you can't go and smoke whenever you're tense. It won't help you give up the habit and it definitely won't help you get better at handling stress. Shiro, I love you so much, but this isn't healthy and that's not just because of what you smoke."

He moved to lie down again, beside Shiro, and ran one hand through his hair. "I love you, Shiro, I really do, but I get so worried when you tell me that you do certain things to cope! I can't spend all of my time worrying because you're killing your lungs with cigarettes or melting your brain with weed! Talking about something traumatic can cause stress but it will make it easier in the long run. Please, I- I'm not expecting you to quit entirely right here and now, just... please try to cut down on how much you smoke. Especially with the cigarettes."

Shiro looked off to the side, trying to keep his frown from being too bitter. "I love you, too," he mumbled. "I guess I could try. No promises this time though. I'll try." Shiro paused a second or so before flicking his gaze back to Lance. "But in that case you have to tell me you won't freak out when I do smoke. That's important, too. Important to me anyways. I know how to handle my drugs, and I know when I've reached my limits." Shiro's mind traveled back to when he was young and stupid and fresh on the mean streets of New York City, experimenting with all sorts of drugs with all sorts of consequences. The memory of his many bad trips made him shiver a little. "I definitely know my limits. You can trust me, Lance."

Lance smiled a little. "I swear, I already told you that I wouldn't freak out! That was what my whole talk was about! Don't lie to me and I won't freak out!" he said with a grin, playfully thumping Shiro's arm, grinning.

Shiro gave a soft laugh, and shook his head a little. "Okay, okay," he giggled. "Fair."

He kept his eyes on Shiro for a few more moments as his smile lingered.

"Okay," he said. "I won't tell Allura. I won't tell her any of it, but you owe me for this, and god I wish that I could kiss you right now."

Shiro looked at him, longing glimmering in his eyes. "I wish you could too..." he hummed, a bit dismal.

Lance shifted off of the bed, hearing three loud knocks on the door. "Breakfast is here!" he announced to Shiro as he left the bedroom. He opened the door, fetched their food, and set down two plates. Seeing the food set on Shiro's lap- bacon and eggs with a couple of pancakes- Blue immediately had her head on his lap, whining, begging for food like she hadn't been fed in years. Lance had fed her before his shower that morning.

Shiro laughed at her, and snapped a piece of bacon in half. He fed Blue the larger half, and pretended he didn't notice the saliva-covered bacon bits that fell from her happy jaws and onto the blankets. Shiro ignored his eggs and dug right into his pancakes. They, like everything he had eaten in the past week, were absolutely fantastic. The texture was perfect. The taste was perfect. The excessive amount of syrup Shiro had poured about them was perfectly warm — the way he liked it. Shiro hung his head back and gave a satisfied hum, licking some syrup from his lips.

"I dunno Lance," he said after a moment of savoring the sweet taste that melted about his tongue. "Your pancakes might have some competition. These are fantastic."

"Oh, shut up," Lance said as he ate, currently eating his eggs and the bacon. He hadn't gotten pancakes for himself- he doubted he'd be able to stomach them- and instead he had some toast that he put the bacon and eggs on. He made a little sandwich and ate them like that, content. It was pretty fucking good, but his mind was too fuzzy for him to focus on it more than just Shiro and Blue's crunching that he, too, pretended not to notice. He even gave a little bit to Black. It wasn't fair for Blue to get all of the bacon.

Shiro gave a chuckle, taking another bite of his food. He leaned forward, and give Lance a smirk. "You might just have to cook some more for me. I can compare properly then," he joked smartly through a mouthful of pancakes. Shiro swallowed back his food, and lifted a hand to wipe the syrup from his lips. "Do you want my eggs? I only eat eggs when they're scrambled."

Lance kept his eyes on Shiro, rolling them after a moment but still smiling at him. "Sure, better than letting them go to waste," he said as he began to eat them, moving one of the fried eggs off of Shiro's plate and onto his own while he ate the other. He leant against Shiro, closing his eyes as he finished eating his breakfast. He felt better today. And, tomorrow, he'd likely be healthy again. He was looking forward to that.

Shiro finished off the rest of his plate. He managed to eat all of his pancakes, and about half of his bacon -- the other half being crunched about between the teeth of both Black and Blue. It was a new record, Shiro had to suppose as he pushed his empty plate away. Breakfast was usually when he'd eat the least... he wondered if he still had his previous case of the munchies...

He shook his head. Whatever. Shiro was content and full -- his chest and his stomach warm from all that syrup. A soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Shiro leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss upon Lance's head. He suddenly wished for nothing more than to kiss him on the lips...

"So you're feeling better?" Shiro asked quietly, moving his head down a bit to kiss Lance on the cheek. "I doubt you're contagious anymore..." His lips trailed down to Lance's jaw, and then moved to Lance's chin. "One kiss couldn't hurt anyone, right? I feel like we haven't kissed in ages..." Once Shiro wined out that little statement, he placed a delicate kiss at the very corner of Lance's mouth -- not quite on the lips... but dangerously close. "What if we said no tongue, hm?"

Lance's eyes flickered to Shiro and he turned a little red. Not by much, but it was noticeable. "Shiro, come on," he murmured. "I don't want to risk you getting ill, no matter how much I've missed kissing you."

He moved to bury his face in Shiro's neck, not wanting him to see the redness of Lance's cheeks. He never got so easily flustered, he didn't understand what had gotten him so red. He'd kissed Shiro before! Apparently, being deprived of kisses for a couple of days had turned Lance into a flustered schoolgirl with a crush. He just kept his face hidden and tried to calm himself to stop his cheeks from reddening any more.

Shiro gave a disappointed sigh, but he nodded anyways. "Alright," he muttered quietly, rolling his eyes. He lifted a hand, slowly gracing his knuckles against the back of Lance's neck. "Personally, I think it's totally worth the risk. I've missed your Goddamn lips, McClain..."

His hand trailed down to an old hickey just at the side of Lance's neck. It was from the first time they had sex... the time Lance didn't remember. Shiro gently rubbed at the old bruise with his thumb, tracing the lightened spot. He wondered if Lance even had the slightest snippets of memory from that night... he wondered if Lance remembered getting any of those faded spots he still had littered about his collarbone and his lower neck. They were all so pretty to Shiro right then and there... maybe in need of a touch up... but pretty.

He hoped Lance remembered at least some of them.

And, as if a perfect cue for Shiro to ask, Lance let out a very quiet, clearly stifled noise. It couldn't quite be called a moan, or even a groan, but it was a noise. From the little touches to his neck alone. Lance, his face getting steadily hotter, decided to press a little further into Shiro's neck despite how the best way to avoid any more awkwardness was just to leave the room. He had no clue what had him so riled up and desperate. All he knew was that if Shiro brushing his fingertips along his hickeys was enough to make him 'not-moan', he was far too sensitive for his own good.

So, for now, he would just keep his face hidden in Shiro's neck. Just for a little longer.

Shiro's eyes widened a little, and he flicked his gaze down to the man buried in his neck. "Oh," he said quietly, a teasing slickness already devilishly apparent in his tone. "Did you like that?"

Shiro trailed his touch about Lance's neck some more -- though he no longer did it so idly. His fingers moved to please, his eyes curiously watching Lance for some sort of reaction. He gently pressed his thumb into more hickeys, figuring each one represented a sort of sweet spot from the way Lance would tense just slightly. After a few more thoughtful touches, an idea formed about his mind, building itself up before he could stop it. Shiro leaned his head down a bit, and closed his eyes.

"How about I touch up some of these hickies for you?" Shiro asked in a whisper. "Would you like that too, kitten?"

Lance pulled back after a moment, his wide-eyes fixing on Shiro. "Oh, come on, that's just cruel," he said as he put his hands around his own neck in a way of protecting them from Shiro. "Too cruel, you'd never. I mean- you love me? Is that- is that a good reason why you shouldn't do it?" he asked, shifting a little bit away from him. He wanted Shiro's lips on his neck- of course he did, but the last thing he needed while he was ill and almost always had a headache was to get a fucking boner.

And yet, Shiro had been tempting with every little hint he'd given. As if the sultry promise wasn't enough, the teasing tone, the smirk, the look in Shiro's eyes- he had used the nickname 'kitten', and Lance wasn't exactly sure why it got such a reaction out of him. He hadn't heard the name the other few times Shiro had called him it and suddenly wanted to have sex, but this time? He was blaming it on Shiro's tone. He had to blame it on something and he was hardly going to blame it on himself.

"Shiro, that'd just be cruel," he insisted again, shifting his hold on his neck ever-so-slightly, leaving a hickey exposed. A target. His unintentional self-sabotage; his undoing.

Shiro gave a grin, getting Lance's subtle hinting with a rush of excitement in his system. He moved forward a bit, ducking down so his head rested upon Lance's shoulder. One of his hands found Lance's waist. The other trailed up to Lance's own hand, the steel fingertips playfully running over Lance's knuckles. He looked up at Lance, and his smirk grew all the more mischievous.

"I'm a cruel guy, Lance," he murmured slickly, offering a wink up towards his boyfriend. Shiro's eyes slowly turned back to that hickey on Lance's neck. Back to that target of his. Shiro licked his lips, dragging his tongue rather slowly across his upper lip as though he'd been making a show out of it. He didn't move forward though... just incase. Lance hadn't really given him a yes yet.

Shiro's voice sank down into a needy whine. "Let me touch a few of them up, love. They look so pretty on you... I don't want them to fade just yet..."

Lance, all too red-faced to turn him down now, gave a shy nod. He did want Shiro's marks on his neck, he just didn't want to end up embarrassing himself further by either moaning or getting a boner.

"O-Okay, go ahead," he managed, pulling his hands away and instead wrapping them around Shiro, closing his eyes. He even went as far as to tilt his head to the side, giving Shiro plenty of room to mark him up as he pleased. God, even the anticipation was making his breath catch and he almost urged Shiro to just get it over with.

With a triumphant grin, Shiro moved both his hands back down to Lance's waist and pulled him a bit closer. He pressed a delicate kiss on the first hickey he had touched, starting off slow and testing. A few moments passed and his kiss became a little rougher, his lips parting and getting to work. Shiro tenderly sucked at Lance's skin, letting his teeth graze the reddening spot every couple seconds to tease. He nibbled on the spot for the swiftest moment, and sank his teeth in a little harder, but he released the soft bite when he heard Lance's breath hitch. Shiro gave a huff of a giggle, ran his tongue across the new mark as if he intended on healing it with his lick, and pulled back to admire his work. Shiro gave a low whistle, pride sparkling in his eyes.

A pretty spot of purple, touched up with the pink blush of raw skin. Shiro gave a soft hum and kissed Lance's cheek. "That's a good one," he said quietly. "You want me to do any more, or do you want me to stop? I'm satisfied if you are, baby."

Lance, now a much more prominent red as he met Shiro's eyes, gave a timid nod to urge Shiro to leave a few more marks.

"Another one," he muttered shyly, uncharacteristically apprehensive for someone so boldly flirtatious most of the time. He kept his eyes on Shiro for another few moments, the sensitive skin tingling where Shiro had kissed it, the wet skin cold with exposure to the air. He moved one hand to Shiro's hair and began to play with it, twirling it around his fingers and pulling at it. "I like it when you leave marks on me."

He had no idea where this came form. Bluntly announcing that he liked when Shiro left hickeys- he honestly wasn't used to having such courage. "But I get to leave one on you, too. It's only fair."

It was Shiro's turn to blush. His cheeks flushed with a weak pink, and his eyes widened just the slightest bit with surprise. "That's fair," he said, tone still the same low purr despite his blushing. He leaned into Lance's neck and began kissing another one of those old marks, speaking into Lance's skin between each peck. "I like it when you leave marks on me, too."

Shiro touched up three more of Lance's hickies, each one given the same amount of care and attention as the first. One of them, Shiro's favorite of the four he had given that morning, had been on Lance's collarbone. He might have gone a bit overboard on that one... when he pulled back there had been pinpricks of blood dotted about a deeper set of bite marks. Shiro apologized, blushing again as he wiped his thumb across the mark. He kissed it a final time, and pulled away, gazing at his masterpiece. He grinned, and pulled Lance's shirt collar back up, leaning back so he could look his boyfriend up and down.

"God, you're so pretty," he said dazedly, inawed.

Lance stuck his tongue out at him.

"Shut up," he muttered as he leant in, grabbing ahold of Shiro's collar and diving into his neck. He bit down on his neck hard, just a little below his ear, and began sucking on his neck. Shiro gave a gasp, and a soft sort of sound from the back of his throat, but held himself together after that, his eyes closed tight and his face deepening in color as he let Lance go on. Lance kept a tight hold on him, running his tongue over the skin. He didn't stop for teasing, just running his tongue over and sucking the spot. He wrapped his arms around Shiro a little tighter. He pulled away after a moment, flicking his tongue over the purple skin a few times and pressing another kiss to it.

He repeated this a few times. A few more than Shiro, anyway, leaving trailing kisses along Shiro's neck to the spot where he would begin sucking, leaving marks along his skin. When he pulled away once and for all, content with what he'd done, there were several hickeys stemming from just below Shiro's jaw to his collarbone. Some were pale and would fade in a few days, others were dark enough to need a couple of weeks.

"There," Lance announced decidedly as he looked up at Shiro. He had a smug grin on his lips as he cupped his boyfriend's cheek. "I'm happy now."

Shiro fluttered his eyes open, and let out a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Shiro reached a frail hand up to his neck, tentatively prodding at the wet marks scattered about his sensitive skin. He gave a soft laugh, his breath still a bit caught in his throat. "So am I," he murmured, a happy, crooked smile splayed about his cheeks.

He leaned forward, pulling Lance into a lazy hug, resting his head on Lance's shoulder. Shiro gave a long sigh, running his hand up and down Lance's back in a slow, idle sort of manner. "This was a good morning," he said in a soft hum. "I can't wait for more mornings like this." Lance smiled.

"Me too," he said fondly as he ran his fingers through Shiro's soft hair. "But hopefully I won't be sick. God, I hate being sick. It's so miserable," he murmured irritably as he ran his fingers through his hair as he ran his fingers along Shiro's chest. "But at least you're here to make it a little more tolerable, 'Kashi," he murmured, the nickname just slipping out as he leant against his chest, eyes closed.

Shiro's eyes widened,and then almost seemed to sparkle. "'Kashi'," he hummed in mocking response, a soft giggle in his tone. "I like that..."

Though there was a slight pinch of memory somewhere in Shiro's system at the name. Maybe even a jab of guilt. He couldn't quite tell why...

Shiro just disregarded it.

He hugged him a bit tighter for a moment, and then pulled away, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I should probably shower," he said quietly. His hand trailed down a little, and his fingers met some of those bruises, the contact making his face flush a bit too pink again. "Are you wanting to do anything today? You seem well enough to go to the cafe or even see Allura. I also kinda wanted to go talk to Lotor about everything. But... uh... if you don't want me around him anymore then I guess I don't have to." Shiro flicked his eyes to the floor, remembering all of that stuff Lance had said about Lotor influencing him. He knew it was not any kind of true but... he also knew he didn't want to disappoint Lance again.

Lance kept his eyes on him for a moment, sighing. "I... I can't tell you not to spend your time around him. That wouldn't be fair at all. I'm not going to. But- but please don't get high again. Not even if he offers," he said sternly, pressing a soft kiss to Shiro's forehead. "And I think I should just take it easy today. I should be all better by tomorrow and I don't want to risk getting worse because I go out," he said as he squeezed Shiro's hand. "I love you, alright? Go have fun. But- but if Allura isn't busy spending today with Romelle, please send her up. I want to talk to her, try to get our budget back up." He winked a little smiling, before continuing in a playful tone. "Now go shower, and if you come out of the shower and there are no towels in the bathroom, it wasn't me."

Shiro gave a soft sigh, nodding a little. "I love you, too," he said, a little disappointed he wouldn't be able to go out with Lance for another day in a row. Shiro squeezed Lance's hand back before pulling away, slipping from the bed. He stretched his arm, yawned into his fist, and turned around. He dropped his tone to Lance's playful level, and hummed his own joke through his smirking lips. "If there are no towels you'll just have to suffer seeing me naked."

"Oh no," Lance's voice came mockingly. "Have mercy, Shiro, save me from seeing all of your muscles! I might die on the spot~!"

With that and a giggle, Shiro turned around and headed towards the bathroom. He took a longer shower that morning, taking time to just stand beneath the hot water of the steaming faucet for a good handful of minutes. After his body was washed and his fingers were a bit too wrinkled, Shiro shut off the shower, and found a half-damp towel (to his subtle disappointment, of course) somewhere on the floor. He went back into the bedroom, got dressed with his back to Lance (who whistled at the sight), and then turned around to hunt for his boots. When he had found them and slipped them on, Shiro went to Lance on the bed and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"I won't be out long," he promised quietly. "Just getting some air. I'll send Allura up, and maybe talk to Lotor. When I get back we can be lazy and just watch fuckin' movies or something."

Lance nodded, already smiling fondly. "Sounds perfect," he said to him as he sank back under the blanket, Blue dashing past Shiro and coming back after a moment with her leash in her mouth. "Come back soon, prince charming."

He settled down, fixing his pillow slightly and watching as Black approached. Lance was lying on his back so she came over, placing one foot tentatively on his stomach. Lance watched her as she then, decidedly, stood on him and curled up into a ball to sleep. Well now he couldn't move, not even if he wanted to go out with Shiro.

Shiro grinned at Lance and Black before crouching down to clip Blue's leash onto her collar. He stood, waved goodbye, and left, making very sure the door was secured into a tight close behind him. Shiro rode down to the lobby and headed into the cafe. He went straight to the register and ordered one large frappuccino, and then a plain old regular coffee on the side. Before heading off to the lab, Shiro scooped up a multitude of sugar packets in his free hand, the two larger cups nervously tucked into the crook of his elbow.

He knocked on the door, but didn't wait before entering, awkwardly turning the knob with his sugar-holding hand. Shiro slipped into the lab, letting Blue slink in around his ankles, and looked up, a nervous smile on his face. He met the sudden looks of both Allura and Lotor and Romelle. Shiro swallowed hard, understanding the very heavy silence of the lab as he pushed the door to a close behind him. An awkward laugh escaped his crooked smile, and Shiro became presently aware of some of those marks on his neck. All of them had already noticed the hickeys, but Lotor was the only person who could see all of the ones he had been given. His shirt only just dipped low enough to reveal them.

"Uhh, good morning," he said quietly. Shiro looked down at the coffees in his hand, and looked up at the suddenly very full room. Shit. He was going to have to choose. Very reluctantly, Shiro let his eyes trail to Lotor. "I, uh, got you coffee. Didn't know what you liked so I just got regular... with some sugar too." Shiro paused to gesture the seven or so packets in his hand. He flicked his eyes to the girls. "Sorry Allura and Romelle. I didn't know you guys would be in here."

Romelle gave a shrug. "It's alright," she hummed. She was sitting beside Allura, tucked under her arm and leaning into her side. She had been playing with Allura's very long hair when Shiro had come in, fingers twisting and turning a section of her locks into an intricate braid. "Good morning." Allura looked at him, a little less warm when she greeted Shiro.

"Morning," she said with a slight sharpness in her voice. "Though I would have appreciated it if you had knocked, it is good to see you." One part of that was a lie. "How is Lance? I assume that he's feeling better by now."

"Oh yeah," Shiro said, nodding. "He's doing a lot better. In a... a better mood too..." Shiro had flicked his eyes towards Lotor, and gave him a soft sort of nod, hoping he understood what he was trying to say. Lotor returned the nod.

By then, he had taken out one of his earphones, and diverted his full attention onto Shiro. He smiled a little.

"Thank you," he said, appreciating the gesture. He took the coffee. "I don't usually drink coffee, but I do appreciate it." He stood, setting his computer to sleep. "Do we need to speak outside, or are you here for a different reason?" he took two or three of the sugar packets and emptied them into his coffee, needing quite a pick me up. He hadn't slept in a few days (insomnia, not a deliberate choice) so he appreciated the coffee and was happy to have some sugar, too. He also couldn't recall the last time he'd had a full meal, so he needed something to pick him up. He stirred it a little before putting the lid back on and beginning to sip on it again.

Shiro rose his shoulders a little. "I guess we could talk about something," he said smiling a little. "But, uh, Allura... Lance kinda wants to talk to you. It's nothing bad-" Shiro looked at Lotor again, once again giving him that assuring sort of nod. "Just money and stuff. I'm sure he misses you, too. Whenever you're free just try to swing up there, I guess."

Allura sent a glance to Romelle and then to Shiro, sighing.

"Yeah," she murmured as she took her bag and gathered up her things. "I'll head up there in a moment. Romelle can stay here and supervise the lab, keep Coran company when he comes back."

Romelle gave a sigh, and took her hands from Allura's hair. "Alright. Don't be too long," she said, tone a dramatic sort of wistfulness hollowing her tone. She leaned in and kissed her cheek, before settling back down. Her eyes flicked to Lotor for just the slightest of instances after her display of affection... but it wasn't too quick for Shiro or Lotor not to notice. It made his skin crawl. He hated seeing her be affection with Allura- but not because of the affection, because she always went over the top around him just to test his patience.

Sipping his own drink, Shiro nodded back towards the door, his slightly concerned eyes on Lotor. He turned around, and guided Blue out, giving Romelle and Allura a slight wave goodbye as he left through the door. It thumped to a close behind him, and Shiro leaned up against the wall, watching for both Lotor and Allura as he waited.

 

Lotor had to refrain from telling Romelle to fuck off as he left, holding the coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Allura and Romelle exchanged a few hushed words and a soft kiss before Allura left. She didn't speak to either Shiro or Lotor (but did bump shoulders with him on the way past) as she went to the elevators to go to Lance's room.

Turning his attention back to Shiro, Lotor smiled. "What is it?" he asked, draining damn near a third of his cup of coffee at once while he waited for Shiro to reply.

Shiro watched him a bit nervously for a moment, turning his own cup in his hand. "Just wanted to tell you everything's fine with Lance. He isn't gonna tell Allura anything," he explained, trying to keep his tone chipper. "He's also not going to rip our heads off if we hang out. Sorry you had to suffer his wrath like that... he was just kinda worked up..." Lotor nodded, showing that he had been listening, not sure how exactly to respond just yet.

Guilty, Shiro lifted a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "I lied to him. That was the main thing. He shouldn't be that mad at you... he's a little pissed about the weed, but it's not that bad." Shiro paused a few moments, remembering their harsh chastising with an involuntary shudder. He shook his head, and let himself smile a bit. "But we talked. Made up. Everything's all good."

"I'm glad," he said fondly, sipping his drink again. "Incredibly relieved he won't tell Allura. Thank you for clearing everything up. And- you are aware that you got me this as a gift with my money, aren't you? So I essentially bought this for myself and got you your drink as a gift." He smiled a little, only teasing, and took a step back. "Where to today, though? Assuming you want to take Blue on a walk again."

Shiro snickered. "Hey, it's the thought that counts, right?" he laughed, raising his shoulders. Shiro leaned off the wall, and started making his way through the lobby, turning his head a bit to make sure Lotor followed. "Figured we could just walk the block or something. I don't want to be away from Lance too long. Then you could get back to your work too..." he trailed off, thinking a moment as he brought his drink to his lips.

"Why do you work so much anyways?" he asked, words a bit slurred with the straw in his mouth. "Don't you need, like, a break?" Lotor kept his eyes on him a moment before averting his gaze, suddenly finding the wall rather interesting.

"It's an easy, productive way of distracting myself. I either work or I get high and, as Allura doesn't approve of my getting high, I only do that when I'm not working- which I'm doing most of the time. And no. Even if I do 'need' a break, I don't want one. If I don't work or distract myself somehow, I start to think of my father. Or Allura. Or Romelle. Over all, distracting myself is the best thing that I can do. Work is the best way that I can do it. Besides, designing prosthetics is interesting. I can come up with whatever the fuck I want to come up with and try to figure out how it could work. I only came up with the idea for your prosthetic a few days before it was made, only a day before you were given it."

He moved back, turning and gesturing to the doors of the hotel. "After you."

Shiro gave him a weak smile, his mind still mulling over Lotor's response. "Thanks," he said quietly, stepping out into the streets. It was a cold day... Shiro found himself a bit trembly in his short sleeved tee, but he shrugged it off. He waited until Lotor was back at his side to continue the conversation. "So... what other sorts of stuff do you design? Just prosthetics? If so, which do you like designing more: arms or legs?" That last question was a snickered joke, a little more lighthearted and giggled than the other two.

Lotor kept his eyes on Shiro, smiling warmly at his questions.

"I design prosthetics and occasionally weaponry, armour, different types of technology, various things that could be useful. And I prefer arms because of the hands. They're more complicated so it's quite rewarding to alter them. Besides, I was quite proud of the design for your arm." He glanced over at Shiro's arm, reaching to his shoulder and flicking something. The blue light dulled, turning into a low amber. "Night mode. I didn't tell you about it because it was funny to see you complain about it. I figured that now that we're friends- or... or at least a little less at each other's throats, i should let you know."

He smiled proudly, a smug look on his face as he continued to walk. In his defense, he was planning on telling Shiro about it, but there wasn't a convenient time. He was going to tell him the day he left, when he got on the plane, but he figured that it wouldn't get him killed if he said something about it now.

Shiro let out a loud gasp, stopped dead in his tracks as he stared down in great awe at the dulled light of his arm. "That's... so cool!" he cried, reaching up to try and find whatever switch he had to flick or button he had to press. After a moment or so, he found it, and turned the light back up to blue. He turned it off again. And then on again. Like a child playing with a lightswitch: on and off and on and off. After a moment or so of his fascination, Shiro turned it on and left it on, rushing back up to Lotor's side.

"Is there anything else it can do? Anything you haven't told me?" he asked eagerly, completely curious. "My old one could, like, heat up whenever I got mad or scared or something. It was pretty cool -- nice in a fight, too..." Shiro trailed off a little, eyes lowering to the sidewalk. "Not that I miss it or anything. I mean I do... sorta... in some twisted kinda way. But this one is much better."

"Yes, there are other things it can do. And yes, it does heat up," he answered, "but it's less of an emotional thing and more of a... 'I wanted to see how many functions I could give it' kind of thing. Again, I was going to hold off on letting you know about the functions it has, but I have a remote for it back in the lab. And... when you were being a dick, it was pretty fucking difficult not to just start pressing as many buttons as I could. Especially the vibrate one, but- but that wasn't added for any perverted reasons. Just curiosity and I ran out of ideas."

Shiro gave him a look. "Yeah, sure," he said sarcastically, shaking his head. He tried to hold back his laughter, but he fell into a soft fit of giggles, almost doubling over as they walked. "You added a- a fucking vibrate setting? Hah! Imagine the look on my face if my fucking arm just started vibrating out of nowhere. Haha! Jesus... that's fucking hilarious. You've gotta show me that God damn remote when we get back."

They arrived at a small cafe, Lotor having finished his drink and wanting another. He opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for Shiro to enter. It was dog-friendly, too, so there was no issue about Blue and whether or not to let her in. He walked in, told Blue to sit by a table for two, and got her a toy to begin chewing on while she was waiting for Shiro and Lotor to return.

"Anything you want," Lotor reminded Shiro as he gestured to the menu. "It's on me- though you can't really help that, you don't have access to your money."

Shiro grinned at him over his menu, his system still a little giddy from his laughter. His frappe was already empty -- tossed in some public trash can they passed by on their walk -- but he didn't really mind another one. Shiro found a drink that looked appetizing and a rather delicious sounding cookie somewhere on the desert section. He pointed both out to Lotor, and said that was all he needed before leaning back in his seat and folding up his menu. He gave a sigh, and turned to look out the window they sat by, watching the cars roll by in their traffic and the people bustle by with their shopping bags. Shiro's bangs fell over his eyes, and he flipped them aside, reaching a hand up to smooth them back as he turned to face Lotor.

Still deciding, Lotor leant back in his seat. He decided to ignore Blue as she jumped up at his lap and dropped the toy onto his lap, an obvious demand for a game of fetch. He wished he could agree but he'd rather not get kicked out of the restaurant so soon after arriving. Shiro got his attention shortly, before Lotor had even gotten to making a decision.

"Okay," Shiro said with a smirk, leaning his elbows forward onto the table. "Question of the century here. Is that your natural hair color or do you dye it white?"

Lotor looked up from his menu, meeting Shiro's eyes. "Natural," he said with a smile. "Genetic mutation, it's the same one that caused my eyes to be this colour," he explained with a smile. "And you? I was wondering but I didn't want to say anything. Oh, and between you and me, Allura's hair isn't naturally white." He had chosen a raspberry lemonade to drink, and was still trying to decide which cake he wanted to get. There were so many choices and he was curious to try all of them.

Shiro gave a sharp laugh, and banged his fist on the table -- softly, of course, but enough to rattle it just a bit. "Fuckin' called that!" he said a bit too triumphantly. "It really does look like it came from a bottle..." Shiro shook his head a little and leaned back into his seat again, eyes turning up to his own white forelock. "Mine's natural. Sorta. You know that trope in movies and books and stuff where people's hair turns white when they're stressed? Turns out that really does happen. After... uh... you know... with Zarkon and all that, it just started changing over time. It might have even started when my parents kicked me out, but all that mafia shit really helped its progress..." he trailed off, shifting a bit uncomfortably in his seat.

After a moment or so of silence, Shiro spoke up again, desperate to keep the attitude lighter. "I'm thinking I'm gonna dye it all white, though," he said, shrugging a little. "Lance wants us to change our hair... and the white bangs are too iconic to give up... so I figured I'd just dye it all. Why the hell not, right?" Lotor studied him for a moment or two, smiling.

"Why not," he nodded, deciding not to comment on any of the mafia shit previously mentioned. "But I was wondering if you would need a haircut. Both you and Lance. Your hair is starting to grow out and it would be nice to keep it a little tame, wouldn't it? I've been cutting my own hair since I could first get a pair of scissors- and when I realised that just because I was never given a haircut doesn't mean I shouldn't have one. I could do it for you both when we get back."

"Huh," Shiro said, nodding a little. His hand went up to his bangs. "That would be nice."

Lotor slipped off of his seat, having settled on the red velvet cake, and promised Shiro that he would just be a second as he went to the counter to order it. Blue, realising that Lotor wasn't going to throw the toy, turned her attention to Shiro. She placed her head on his lap, whining loudly at him, the toy in her mouth until she had his attention. Keeping eye contact, she slowly opened her mouth and released the toy- still whining. Just to make sure that Shiro knew what she wanted, so he couldn't pretend he hadn't noticed, like Lotor. This dog was too smart for her own good.

Shiro giggled a little, looking down at her. He picked up the slobber stained toy (with a soft grimace at its dampness) and held it back out to her. "I cant throw that, Blue," he said quietly, speaking to her as if he'd been speaking to just another regular old person. "We're in a cafe. Just..." Shiro trailed off, thinking. He leaned over and placed the toy beneath the table, patting the ground for her. "Here. Sit by me, okay? Chew your toy."

Lighthearted, Shiro grinned when she listened. He scratched her head as he leaned up -- behind her ears and about her cheeks. "Good girl," he said softly. His voice sank down into that ridiculous tone he'd usually regard Black with. "You're a good girl, Blue. Yes you are. I'll give you extra treats when we get home. Yes I will."

Lotor just stood and watched for a few moments, an amused smile on his lips, finding this incredibly endearing.

"Wow," he finally said while Shiro was baby-talking and gushing to Blue about how good she was. "I didn't know you had such a way with dogs, Shiro."

Shiro blushed. "Shut up," he mumbled quietly, an embarrassed smile pulling at his lips.

Lotor's tone may have been a little more teasing than invited, but it was fair. He hadn't seen Shiro act that way before and it was pretty fucking amusing. Nonetheless, he set down the tray with their drinks and food on, beginning to set down their food. "Bon appetit," he said as he slid back onto his chair, beginning to sip on his lemonade while he cut into his cake.

Shiro grinned and dove right into his cookie. It was still warm -- the chocolate chips melted into gooey pools of goodness upon Shiro's first bite, the taste spreading about his tongue. Shiro gave a satisfied hum, sinking down a bit lower to the table. He took two more bites, and set the cookie down, hoping to savor it. He took a few sips of his drink, the cool frappe washing out his chocolatey palate with its icy sweetness. My, how his sweet tooth was satisfied. Shiro looked up to Lotor, already grabbing for his cookie again.

"How's yours?" he asked through a mouthful of chocolate and crispy breading. "My stuff is all great." Lotor refrained from grimacing at Shiro's uncivilised mannerisms.

"It's pleasant," he said as he took another bite of his cake. "Even if I don't seem to be enjoying my food as much as you are." The icing wasn't too sweet, the cake was perfectly fluffy, it melted in his mouth. He was greatly enjoying it- he couldn't recall the last time he had been able to eat something so sweet. He couldn't recall the last time he'd treated himself to something so nice.

Blue settled her head on his lap and he began scratching behind her ears. "None of this is for you," he told her scoldingly. "No matter how much I wish I could give you some. I bet you've already been fed today, too, and yet you're begging like you haven't eaten in days."

"She had half my bacon this morning," Shiro said smartly. He was only about three or four more bites away from finishing his cookie, which was cooling on its plate as he sipped some more at his drink. Shiro's eyes had been on his arm, curiously running up and down the metallic designs and build. Curiosity from their previous topic still lingered in his system... he wondered if he could ask again and get a more specific answer.

Shiro lifted his arm, and spread about his mechanical fingers, wiggling them a bit. "So it glows. It dims. It heats up. It floats. It vibrates." Shiro offered Lotor a playfully judging stare, before flicking his gaze back to his arm. "So what else can it do?"

"What, can't you wait until we get to the lab again?" he asked, smiling a little. "It's bluetooth. That one was an impulsive addition, but it's bluetooth. I can't remember most of the other features, but you can play music from it like that. But I'm not going to tell you any more until you can find them out for yourself. I want to see how you react," he said teasingly, a small grin on his lips. "So eat your cookie and we'll head back when you're done."

He was amused by Shiro's interest. He liked seeing someone so intrigued in his work. Evidently he hadn't had Allura run through his decisions before it was implemented or it wouldn't vibrate and it definitely wouldn't be able to use bluetooth to play music. But Shiro was interested, even if only because it was his arm. That was enough for him.

Shiro gave a soft groan, but nodded anyways. "Alright," he hummed. "Maybe Lance could come and see too? I really want to get him out of that apartment. He's been cooped up there for days, and he's feeling much better now."

"Yeah," Lotor nodded. "If Allura let's us take him out of the apartment. She acts like a mother when someone is sick. Last time Romelle got ill, she didn't leave her room for days. She was texting me to get soup and honey for teas and whatever. It was... It was something. I'd never seen her so concerned and all over a winter flu."

Shiro nodded, and popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth. He took the straw from his drink, and then downed the rest of that too in one long gulp. Shiro set the empty glass on the plate, and pushed them both away, stretching a little as he leaned back into his seat. Shiro put a hand on his stomach, and sighed, feeling full and content. "Thanks for that, Lotor," he mumbled quietly. "You just keep spending all your money on me. What a gentleman. It's almost like you have a crush." Shiro gave a soft laugh at his own joke, rolling his eyes a little.

Lotor glanced at him and suddenly flushed a very, very vibrant red. He laughed it off, though, moving out of his seat now that he had finished. "Wow," he teased as he set down some money to leave as a tip. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Shiro. You're attractive and all, but I have quite high standards."

He took Blue's leash and started to the door, not waiting for Shiro to follow him as he began striding home. He honestly needed the fresh air. And to spend some time around someone other than Shiro- it was starting to get to him.

Shiro stood and followed a bit hurriedly, wondering why Lotor's exit had been so entirely hasty. He caught up to him at the door, and they walked side by side back to the hotel in mostly silence. There was conversation here and there -- mostly started by Shiro, and then ended by Shiro when Lotor failed to answer. It wasn't a bad silence -- at least to Shiro it wasn't. It was pleasant and relaxing, just walking along the chilly streets of New York, his hands in his pockets. The only problem was his shivering. Three times, of course, did Lotor sigh and offer his coat. Shiro denied twice... but by the time they had gotten to the hotel Shiro had been in Lotor's large, warm designer jacket. He took it off when they got in, and Shiro offered it back with a blushing thanks. Lotor slid it onto himself, wrapping up in it. It was warm.

They walked to the elevators together, and while they waited, Shiro took a breath, and tried to soothe his dignity so he could continue on with his gratitude.

"Really though. Thanks. For, uh, everything I guess," Shiro mumbled, looking at the ground. "For food and for money and for my arm and for letting us stay here. I know I haven't been super grateful at all but... you really saved my ass. Lance's too. I still owe you a lot for everything you've done for us." He looked up, and rose his shoulders a little. The doors to the elevator opened... but Shiro held his hand in front of them, stopping them for a moment. "You're a good guy, Lotor. Sure, neither of us are good people in society's standards but... you're good in my book, I guess. Even with all of our... past problems..." Shiro trailed off, biting at his cheek. He shook his head, and lightened up his tone. "Even with all of that. You've got the Shiro stamp of approval, baby."

Shiro winked at him, but spun on his heel before Lotor could respond. He had enough of gushy bonding from that one little confession. Shiro rose his hand up in a wave as he slipped into the elevator. "I'll be back down with Lance in a few minutes," he called through the doors as they closed. "See ya."

Lotor waved back a moment later, only for a second while he watched the doors shut.

The doors closed, and Shiro's smirking face was covered up and hidden by the metallic doors of the elevator.

He had no clue what was going on with himself but the use of 'baby', for some reason, was making his heart race. He liked to just assume that it was because he was relieved- y'know? He was just grateful that Shiro was forgiving, accepting him, however he was starting to figure out that it was a little something more.

He took a couple of steps away from the elevator, where the doors had been closed for a few moments, and moved to stand just outside the lab doors. He was out of sight there. He just needed to think for a few moments. To relax. Shiro's little... dare he say 'flirtatious' remarks were driving him insane. His heart was practically beating through his chest and he needed to breathe for a few moments before he'd even dare to face Allura.

Speaking of... he hadn't quite felt so strongly about someone since then. There was no way that he was developing any feelings for Shiro, surely. The teasing was surely only getting a reaction from him because he hadn't had anyone speak to him like that for so long. Surely.

But the coat was still warm from when Shiro wore it and his scent lingered a little and- and how sweet Shiro had been to him lately... And his thoughts kept returning to that teasing wink, the sweet and playful nickname of 'baby'. It was only teasing, though. He had to remind himself that.

He pushed into the lab. He just needed a drink of water and to complete some more work. That would take his mind off of it.


	33. Problems With Lotor

"Hey, kitten~?" Shiro called as he pushed open the door to their apartment.

He was in a good mood. The fresh air had opened up his head a bit -- no migraines and no nervousness plagued his mind as he entered their apartment. The sugar from his two drinks and his cookie stirred rather presently in his system. The lighthearted chats with Lotor had him feeling more social than normal. Shiro's lips were curled into the slightest of warm smiles, his eyes a bit shinier and his movements a bit lighter. It really had been a good morning. Shiro felt great... greater than he had in a while.

Blue bounded in beside him, also looking particularly happy with herself. Shiro strolled in, found the living room empty, and continued on into the bedroom. He found Lance sitting upright on the bed, munching on some of the garlic bread that had been left over from the night before. Shiro made his way over to him, and pulled him into a gentle hug. He leaned down and pressed a kiss upon Lance's forehead.

"Hello," he hummed. "I'm back. And I've got good news." Lance looked up at him, smiling a little. Allura was no longer in his room. She'd claimed she only had time for a short conversation but he was well aware that that just meant that she wanted to spend her time with Romelle instead of babysitting him.

"Oh?" he asked through his mouthful of garlic bread, shifting over and pulling Shiro down beside him. "Please, do tell."

Blue leapt up onto the bed and made a dive for the garlic bread on the plate. Lance only barely had enough time to catch her, having both hands on her chest and pushing her back. She barked, yapping, and Lance released her when she stopped trying to move through his hands to access the food on his lap. Instead, she lay down next to him and tried to take the food from his lap like that.

 

"Something good clearly happened with Lotor." He gasped, feigning mock shock as he spoke again- "Did you two finally kiss?"

Shiro laughed a little, and narrowed his eyes. "Yes, he confessed his undying love for me and we made out," Shiro said in a dramatic sigh, leaning back with an actor's ease, and hand over his heart. He snorted and shook his head, relaxing his posture. Shiro held up his metal arm, and wiggled his fingers.

"No, we didn't — but he did tell me that my arm has a bunch of cool tricks we didn't know about. He wants me to go downstairs so he could show my everything. I kinda wanted you to come too." Shiro leaned forward, his arm snaking about Lance's waist, pulling him closer. "You should get out of this stuffy apartment for at least a little. Some fresh air will probably help you. Oh! And he also offered to cut our hair."

Lance slipped out of bed after a moment. "Well- say no more!" he said, grinning. "All you needed to say to tempt me was that he was going to cut our hair. God knows I'm long overdue a haircut." He stood, stretching his arms over his head. He was only wearing boxers and a shirt, which lifted when he stretched to reveal a scandalous slip of skin just above the hem of his undies. "I ought to get dressed first, though, right?"

"Mm," Shiro hummed, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. His eyes were on Lance's slightly exposed stomach. "You don't need to..."

"Oh, shut it."

He moved away, over to the bag, tugging on some jeans and brushing through his hair. He stretched a little again, turning to the door and immediately being knocked over by Blue, who had gotten the zoomies and begun bolting around the room. She was still exhausting herself, evidently. He slumped onto the floor, grumbling but nonetheless beginning to pet Blue while she had him pinned to the floor.

"Shiro~!!" he called dramatically. "Shiro, save me~ She's got me again~!"

Shiro laughed, and made his way over to Lance, crouching down to lug Blue off of Lance's squirming form. He then moved over to lean atop of him again — not completely on top of him, but pushed up on his elbow so his face hovered above Lance's and their noses touched. Shiro smirked at him, a smart sparkle in his eyes.

"Is this better, your highness?" he asked, tipping his head up a bit so he could plant a soft kiss on Lance's nose.

"Mm," Lance ran his fingers through Shiro's hair. "Much, much better."

Giggling a little, Shiro leaned up, and pulled Lance up with him. They stood, arm in arm, hand in hand. Shiro turned to Lance and gave a warm smile. "Lotor took me to this neat cafe. If we have anymore time before we leave for England, I figured we could swing by? It's dog friendly. Real nice." Lance smiled warmly.

"That sounds perfect." He took Shiro's hand and began to lead him to the door. "Maybe we could try to go there tomorrow. I want to go on another date with you."

He pressed a kiss to the corner of Shiro's mouth before beginning to lead him outside, making sure the door was closed properly before starting to the elevator. There, he wrapped his arms firmly around Shiro's waist and leant against him, loving to be wrapped up in his boyfriend's arms.

They rode the elevator down to the lobby, and made their way to the lab. Shiro made sure to knock and wait for an answer before simply barging in that time, turning the knob and pushing the door in a bit slowly when he heard Lotor's quiet "come in."

Shiro led Lance into the lab and closed the door behind them, spotting Lotor at the laptop, and then Allura and Romelle by the bench. Coran was tucked in a corner cleaning some medical tools, shining them up with an alcohol wipe and a towel. Shiro leaned up against the closed door, lazily slinging his arm over Lance's shoulder.

"Hello," he hummed, lifting his free hand to wave. "I have Lance this time."

Romelle offered a slight wave but nothing more, focused on something seemingly important on her phone. Allura's reaction was pretty similar as she focused on Romelle, not too fond of having the two of them invading the lab whenever they pleased. Lance smiled at the four in the room and approaching Lotor. He still had his headphones in and slid over the remote, not lifting his eyes from his work. He didn't want to focus on Shiro after this morning, instead needing to keep his attention solely on his work.

Lance picked up the remote before Shiro could, thanking Lotor. Excitedly, he turned to his boyfriend. "I want to see what all of these do!" he said, beaming as he took ahold of his hand.

Shiro's eyes widened a little, and he reached forward a bit, giving a soft sigh when Lance pulled the remote from his reach. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Don't you go pushing random buttons okay?" he said nervously, eyes flicking down to his hand. "Don't want you to make it, uh, explode or anything. Or shoot lasers. Or fucking vibrate."

He shot a smirk to Lotor, but his smirk faded into a frown when he noticed he hadn't been listening. Lotor's head had been in his computer, eyes staring into all those numbers and words with a dull interest. A little concerned, but otherwise dismissive, Shiro turned back to Lance, and rose his shoulders. He leaned forward a little, trying to get a good look at that damned remote.

"Are there labels?" Shiro asked, squinting. "What does that green one do? Try that first."

Lance looked at the remote, scanning for the green button and press it. That turned the arm to the dull amber, meaning that there were various switches and ways to affect it. Ah, yes, Lance wasn't going to abuse the power that that gave him. Not at all.

"Woah, it's got- like- a night mode?" he asked, grinning, clicking the button to turn it back to blue before pressing another button- this one orange, holding Shiro's hand and feeling it warm up in his touch. Another button made an automated voice announce "Bluetooth enabled" and another, as promised, made it begin to vibrate. To Shiro's great, flustered thanks, Lance was quick to disable that feature.

He'd gone through half the remote now, as there weren't too many options. He decided to ignore the button at the bottom labelled 'DISABLE', figuring that it was to disable the arm and he didn't want to risk that. "Which one should I press next?"

Shiro gave a soft shrug, leaning over to look through the remote's array of controls and buttons. His eyes met a red one — a rectangular shaped button just beside that 'DISABLE' switch Lance had been worrying about. Curious, he went ahead and took the remote from Lance, scanning it up and down again before shrugging his shoulders. He put his finger upon the red button, and after a moment of hesitation, pushed down on it, eyes on his arm.

A hot flash of pain sliced through his head. It was only for an instant -- the pain disappearing about as quickly as it had come the moment Shiro took his finger from it. It was short but it hurt. Shiro gave a gasp and brought both hands to his head, letting the remote fall to the ground with a light clatter. After a moment of rubbing at his temples, the ghost of that striking snap of pain still aching in his head, Shiro turned his head up to Lotor.

"What the hell was that!" he cried. "I thought this thing messed with my arm not my head! Did... did you guys put something in my brain?"

Coran chipped in from his corner. "Well of course we did. Nothing surgical. Just an injection," he said, his tone as simple and calm as though they'd just been speaking of the weather. "It's so you can move your arm."

"What does the red button do?" Shiro asked nervously, still rubbing at his head. "Did I mess something up?"

Coran gave a shrug. "That's a Lotor question," he answered. "I wouldn't know, I'm afraid."

Shiro turned to Lotor, hoping he'd been at least listening to that.

But, of course, he hadn't been. His attention was fixed solely on his work. He didn't even glance up. His headphones were in so he hadn't heard Shiro's cry of pain. Lance picked up something from his desk and threw it at him, watching Lotor grit his teeth and take out his headphones.  
"What is it?" he asked irritably, standing up, his hands curled into fists. "I can't even get on with my work now."

Lance, arms folded over his chest, spoke up before Shiro could get a chance.

"Watch the tone," he snapped. "Shiro pressed the red button. What was that supposed to do? All it did was hurt him and I want a fucking answer to why."

"Lance..." Shiro muttered just over a whisper, placing a hand on his shoulder. Lance didn't seem to mind.

"It's only an emergency protocol," he said sternly, reaching out to take the remote back but Lance snatched it up and held it away from him.

"For what? I want a proper answer!"

"It's an emergency protocol! I'm not obligated to-" his eyes flickered between Shiro and Lance and Lotor took a breath, recollecting himself, pushing all emotions back. "It's to be used for hacking into computers and such. It's not been frequently tested so don't go using it to hack into video games but it should enable him to be able to download information and content. And no, it's not to be used for petty crimes like pirating movies or downloading music. Don't use it without direct instructions or permission."

Lance sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "I don't see why you'd implement something like that when it's not even supposed to be used. I thought Shiro's arm was just a substitute, not to be used for hacking into things illegally or whatever. I don't want this feature on his arm! What benefits does it have? How would it help him?!"

A few moments of silence passed. Lotor realised that all eyes were on him. "I'm not obligated to answer that," Lotor only mumbled, beginning to gather his stuff and taking the USB from his computer, picking up a laptop to use to work upstairs. "I'm going to go to my room."

Shiro watched him get up, feeling all sorts of anxious and awkward all of a sudden. He leaned over and picked up the remote, feeling guilty for even pressing the stupid button in the first place. His head had gone back to normal... all that remained was the thrumming shock in his system. Shiro flicked his eyes up to Lotor, who had already made his way across the room and to the door. He spoke out on impulse, just wanting to keep the atmosphere on a lighter note.

"Uhh, thanks for letting us fool around with this thing, Lotor," he said, gesturing the remote. "I'll just leave it on your desk when we go upstairs. Don't want to lose it or anything. That would suck." Lotor looked at him for just half a second before hurriedly averting his gaze, nodding.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I appreciate it." He kept his eyes down, moving past him and out of the room. Allura almost called after him but stopped herself, letting Lotor leave. The lab door fell to a close behind him and silence, thick tension, settled in the air.

Lance turned to look at Shiro, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"Ugh," he mumbled. "He's a bit of a dick sometimes, isn't he?"

"Tell me about it," Romelle chimed in from her bench, cutting off Shiro's own stuttering answer. She flicked her eyes to Allura, and gave a soft frown. "I'm sorry, love, but he really is. Always finds a way to get on someone's nerves."

"No, believe me, I'm on your side. If anyone knows about how much of a dick he can be, it's me. You wouldn't believe some of the things he says or how he acts sometimes. Miserable."

Shiro opened his mouth to argue, but found his words trapped in his throat for a few moments. It took him a good second or two to get even the shortest of phrases past his reluctant lips. "He's not that bad."

"Oh, you don't have to be polite, Shiro," Romelle said, showing him a smile. "I don't think anyone here really minds too much about him. Besides, if anyone here should hate Lotor, it should be you, right? You deserve to, after what he did to you."

Shiro felt his skin go a little cold. He looked off to the floor, and rose his shoulders a bit. "I guess," he mumbled quietly. His next grumble seemed about three times as gentle and whispered. "But I don't hate him anymore."

Lance rolled his eyes a little.

"Whatever," he murmured, taking Shiro's hand. "Let's go back to our room. I want to have a nap and I want to nap with you," he said warmly. He pressed a kiss to Shiro's hand and began leading him to the door, opening it. Lotor was stood there, a look of anger on his features but hurt in his eyes. He glared at Lance and shot a venomous look at Shiro.

"I shouldn't have wasted my time on you," he muttered before leaving, not feeling the need to comment further or let it turn into any kind of an argument. He went to the stairs to go to his room, figuring that Lance and Shiro would rather use the elevator and not wanting to get caught up with them.

Especially not Shiro.

"Lotor- wait-!" Shiro started, eyes widened as he watched Lotor stalk off. He stopped himself though, only allowing himself to take one step forward before giving up with a soft, strangled sort of sigh. His shout died out in the atmosphere, the ghost of his call to Lotor echoing about his own mind. Shiro slouched a little, a weak frown upon his face. That look Lotor had given him... that echoed about his mind too...

It ruined Shiro's mood completely -- spoiled it down to its core. It had taken so long for them to get along. So long for them to warm up to one another. All of it had been flushed down the drain just because of some stupid conversation he let himself get sucked into. It made Shiro's stomach almost feel sick.

Lance just rolled his eyes, murmuring some scathing remark under his breath before beginning to the elevators so he could go to his room and get more sleep. He decided not to address what had happened with Lotor. He had said what he'd said and it had been honest- he wasn't going to dwell on it. He would have said the same thing to his face if Lotor hadn't gone off in a hissy fit.

Shiro let Lance guide him along to the elevators, his eyes on the ground and his face turned in a bitter frown. The ride up started off rather quiet, Shiro's mind working and picking through everything Lotor might have heard, wondering just how badly he had screwed up. He should have stuck up for him more. No... No. He should have just stayed fucking quiet. Keep himself uninvolved with all of that drama shit between Romelle and Allura and Lotor and... and Lance he supposed. Lance seemed to hate Lotor too.

Four against one, Shiro's mind told him. And Lotor just kicked you off his team.

"Did I say something?" he asked Lance, breaking the silence. "Do you think I said something that pissed Lotor off? I... I don't think I said anything too bad. But that's by my standards... not his.

"Why should you care?" he asked under his breath. "I really did try to forget that he offered you weed, Shiro, but with all the shit he's done- I- I just can't get over that. I don't see how you could have forgiven him after what happened, even if I encouraged forgiveness. I can't even get over the fact that the two of you got high together or that he stormed off when we were out for a meal and beat you up while you were gone."

The elevator reached their floor and dinged as the doors open. Lance continued.

"And Allura was telling me about why they broke up when she was in my room. I can't tell you the details, but- but if you'd heard the things he had been doing behind her back, the stuff he had said..." he sighed, clicking the keycard to the door and opening it a moment later. "I'm going to go to sleep for a bit. Do whatever you want to do."

Lance kicked off his shoes, had soon wriggled out of his pants, and was wrapped up in bed a few moments later. Blue leapt up beside him and joined him, Black curled up on the windowsill and staring out at passerby's and cars going past.

Shiro stood in the living room for a bit, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. Well... what the hell was he supposed to do? What the hell was he supposed to think? First making nice with Lotor was the objective but... but just then it seemed as though everyone pushed him to do the opposite. Shiro walked back and forth a little -- almost pacing as he thought, shiting his weight from one foot to the other, one hand on his head and the other still fiddling with the seams of his shirt.

Was Lotor bad? Yeah. Yeah, of course, Lotor was bad. But... Shiro was bad too. He could understand that... he could get that. Sure he wasn't raised by the dark mind and dark hand of Zarkon, but he was taught and mentored and punished a hell of a lot by the guy. Did that mean Shiro understood how Lotor thought in some way? Why he was so reluctant to push him aside all of a sudden? He didn't know.

He figured that apologizing was his best option... but shot the option down after a few moments of consideration. He'd given Lotor enough apologies. They were likely stale right about then... stale and meaningless. Besides... Lance didn't want him to. Lance was his boyfriend. Lance knew best for him. Lance loved him. He could trust Lance and Lance's judgement enough...

Something still didn't sit right in his system. Shiro gave a soft sigh and stopped his pacing, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He needed a drink. He needed a fucking cigarette. Just something to smoke. But no... he couldn't do that anymore. Drugs and intoxication couldn't be his escape from stress. Not with Lance around, worrying about him. Shiro groaned, rubbing his face, itching for a distraction. His hands ran up into his long hair, brushing it from his face. There had to be something he could have done. Something beside smoking and drinking. Something productive. Something...

Shiro took his hands from his hair, and watched as his overgrown bangs fell back into his eyes. He thought for a moment. And then he gave a soft shrug.

That'll work.

He hadn't cut his own hair in a long, long time. Since before the mafia. Since before his parents cut him out. It was back in highschool when he would style his hair in such a fashion no barber could properly replicate to his high and picky standards. To was simple enough. Short bangs. Trimmed sides -- not shaved too close to his head, but short enough. Shiro made his way into the bathroom, straining his memory for the old techniques he would use as he pushed around the sink cabinet for a pair of scissors. He found one, straightened up, and got to work.

It didn't end up looking too bad. It was a little awkward getting the hang of it, of course, and it most definitely didn't look too professional, but it didn't look overgrown anymore. Shiro leaned back, happy with himself as he set down the scissors on the sink counter. That seemed like a good decision -- cutting his own hair to pass the time. The only problem was that he was fresh out of things to do. The thought occured to him as he swept bits of his white forelock and black trimmings beneath the bathroom carpet (as a man like himself would do).

Shiro left the bathroom, frowning. What else was there for him to do?

Three uncoordinated and lazy knocks at the door signalled someone's arrival. Lotor was stood there, a blunt in one hand that he would frequently take long drags from. He'd hold the smoke in his lungs until it burned and stung and brought tears to his eyes, wanting to have something else to blame his tears on if they started coming. Then, finally, he'd release his breath. He'd take a couple of breaths without any influence before suddenly he missed the burning of his lungs and the pain in his throat and it would be between his lips again.

He was jittery, his hands a little shaky, his mind foggy and fuzzy. He wasn't sure why he had decided to come here but- but hearing Shiro participate in insulting or degrading him had made his heart sink in his chest.

He just wasn't sure whether he intended on scolding him for it or dropping to his knees and begging for Shiro to take it back. God, he hated how emotional he could be when he was high but he hated everything about being sober so... plusses and minuses.

Shiro, figuring it had been Allura coming to see Lance again, made his slow way over to the door, preparing himself for her scathing sarcasm and harsh glare as he twisted the knob, and pulled the door open. He just about felt his system seize up at the sight of Lotor standing before him, his posture slumped, his eyes red, and his smoking blunt clutched between two trembly fingers. Shiro gave a harsh gasp -- not really meaning to -- and took a step back.

"L-... Lotor?" he half cried, eyes wide. Shiro fumbled for his words, trying to recover from his sudden shock. "I... uh... fuck. Come in I guess? Shit. You smell like weed. Lance is going to fucking kill me if he smells that." Despite his verbal worrying, Shiro stepped aside, gesturing for Lotor to come in. When he did -- and when he did very slowly, to Shiro's impatient worry -- Shiro shut the door behind him, and turned around. "Are... are you okay?"

"No! Of course I'm not fucking okay!" Lotor said, beginning to pace around the hall, taking another long drag but not holding it in his lungs this time. "Because I can't leave the room for one second without having five people collectively talk shit about me! I-I don't even have a fucking reason to be here!" He said, wild hand gestures accompanying his loud words.

Shiro opened his mouth tor try and tell him to lower his voice, but was cut off when Lotor threw his bag to the floor. He then went into the bedroom (ignoring the sleeping Lance) and picking up the bottle of alcohol that had been left untouched on the bedside table. He pushed his way to the living room without sending Shiro another look, flicking the cap off of the bottle and beginning to drink from it. He set the bottle down a moment later and slumped onto the couch, taking another drag. Then another. "And just when I think that we're fucking friends or some shit similar, you decide that you're going to join in! Oh, but it's okay, I'm not that bad!" He grit his teeth, sniffling a little and wiping at his eyes.

"Fuck you! Fuck you for all of the shit you said! I don't care that you were nicer than everyone else! You're still the same selfish creature you were when I risked my neck entering Galra territory to save you!" He was shouting now, his hands curled into fists as he brought the blunt back to his lips, craving more of it, needing the soothing agents it provided. Tears were in his eyes and god knows that he was going to blame it on the drugs.

Shiro was stunned into silence, mouth parted into just the slightest of inawed gapes, his brow furrowed and his mind working hard behind his eyes. After a moment or so of that quiet, Shiro moved over to the couch, and hesitantly settled down beside Lotor. The look he gave him was hard, but softened, his eyes stern, but rounded. "Lotor, I didn't mean to join in," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that... I... I was trying to stick up for you, I guess. I did a shit job I guess but... I wasn't trying to talk shit. Like, at all."

He leaned forward a little, pausing a moment or so to think. "I... I think you do have a reason to be here," he said quietly, hoping he wasn't digging his own grave with his words. "You change lives with your prosthetics and your designs. You help save people from Zarkon. You help Allura run the Arus mafia for Christ's sake. That's a lot of reasons to be here. Sure... Allura and Lance and Romelle don't... don't really get you sometimes, but that doesn't mean you're not important. You know?" Shiro's eyes trailed to the blunt in his hands... and then to the bottle of alcohol. He thought about taking them away but... but the fading bruises on his face told him to refrain from it. "Maybe you should put the blunt out. I don't know if you're on the best high right now, man."

"You don't fucking tell me what to do!" Lotor only shouted, gritting his teeth. "You don't know as much shit as you think you do! Allura 'doesn't get me'?! Allura was the one who told me I was just like my father and that was why she broke up with me! Allura was the one who saw me having episodes and decided that all she was going to do was kick me to the curb! That all it did was prove Romelle right when she lied! You want to know what she fucking said about me?! She claimed that I'm the reason her family is dead! That I've been profiting off of the murders committed by the Galra mafia by supplying them with information!" He wanted to hit something. He wanted to do something to relieve some of this fucking tension and the fucking weed wasn't doing it's fucking job!

He began to pace again, walking back and forth across the room in front of Shiro, tears now spilling down his cheeks.

"Then what? Then I get on better terms with her and she trusts me again! The day after, I save you and I save Lance and you insult me, threaten me, while I risk my life to get rid of the corpse of a man you killed! Now she hates me again because of you, Romelle hates me even more because of you, Lance never even got a chance to like me, and- and what am I meant to do? Shrug it off? C'est la vie? That's life? That's just how it ends up for me? Shiro, my father put me through hell! I endured worse torment in one day with him than I have in all of my time being here! And- And then you show up! And fuck, I liked you! I liked being your friend and I liked going out and getting away from Allura and Romelle and I liked that Lance was sick because he wouldn't drag Allura along or tag along and-!" he paused to take a shaky breath, bringing the blunt to his lips before dropping it and snuffing it out with his foot before it got too short and burned his fingers.

He turned to Shiro, shoving his chest hard with both hands. "And just when I start to relax and get over it, and just when I start to feel content that you might actually like me, you do shit like this! And- and the worst part isn't even that you broke my trust! It isn't even that Allura and Lance have poisoned your thoughts so much that you're willing to talk shit about me behind my back because they encouraged you- It's that I actually started to have fucking feelings for you! A-And as if it's not bad enough that you're with Lance, he hates me, and you hate me!"

And, finally, Lotor fell silent. He was panting, tears still spilling from his bloodshot, puffy eyes. His face was red from the exertion of so much shouting and his trembling had spread from his fingertips to his hands, up his arms until his whole body was trembling. Shaking with the force of the sobs that began to escape him. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to be so vulnerable. The one, one, rule that he had had was to never show vulnerability. He'd been vulnerable with Allura and she turned him away that night.

Now what?

He couldn't even bring himself to look at Shiro again.

If Shiro had been stunned from Lotor's first series of outbursts, he had been absolutely petrified into a heavy, inescapable state of shocked silence. He just watched Lotor there, his eyes wide, his mouth wide, his posture falling slack as everything processed through his suddenly very tired mind. He was completely wordless. Utterly speechless. It took more than a few moments to say anything... and even then it was just a worthless mumble of shock.

"Lotor..." he murmured, swallowing hard. "I..."

He wanted to move forward and help him sit down. He wanted to tell Lotor that it was alright. He wanted to apologize again and again with the wisest of words for hurting Lotor so badly. He wanted to politely explain he didn't feel the same...

He wanted to help. God, he desperately wanted to help. But Shiro couldn't get the words out in time. He couldn't move in time. He couldn't think properly in time. His mind was too busy -- too busy focusing and pulling apart that one desperate shout from Lotor's lips.

"I actually started to have fucking feelings for you!"

The statement froze him. He was useless in that moment, trapped inside his own uncooperative body with his own uncooperative mind.

Lotor watched him for a few moments. For a stupid, hopeful moment, his eyes had shined with optimism that Shiro would have said something at least a little reassuring but...

"Never mind," Lotor mumbled. "I- I don't want to hear some half-assed response." He snatched up his bag as he walked past Shiro. "Don't bother coming to my room. I- I don't want to see you."

He stumbled to the door, rubbing his eyes, pulling his hood up as he opened the door and left without even a glance over his shoulder. He didn't want Shiro to say anything. He had hoped, of course he had, that there could have been something worth saying but... there wasn't.

Lotor wasn't important enough for someone to waste their time thinking of how to deal with some confession thrown out while high. Lotor wasn't loveable enough for those feelings to be returned.

He had been stupid to even hope, for half a second of optimism, that Shiro might have been able to say something that would have helped.

But no, of course not.

Now he just wanted to get to his bedroom and get high and drunk until he passed out or died. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with Shiro or Allura or Romelle or Lance or any of it. Whatever.

Shiro watched him leave. Helpless. He felt frozen in time -- stuck in that instant of watching Lotor slip right through his fingers. He looked down at the floor, chewing at his cheek, trying to force the warmth building in his eyes back. Why did he feel like crying? Why? Why him? He was the one breaking all the fucking hearts... he was the one causing all of that pain... why the fuck was he crying?

 

He wiped his eyes, sniffled, and shook his head. Shiro turned -- moving slowly, as if through water. He made his tired way to the bedroom, feeling weak and tired. He just wanted to sleep. Curl up next to Lance and Blue and... and fucking forget all of that. All of what happened. Shiro placed his hand on the doorknob, and pushed the door open, shuffling in slowly, dreary eyes turned to the floor.

Lance's arms wrapped around him from nowhere. In front of him, face buried into his chest, shaking like a leaf, Lance clutched onto Shiro. He'd heard just about all of it, having only just dozed off when he was awoken by the loud knocking on the door. He'd feigned sleeping when Lotor had come into the room and just... listened.

"Come on," he said softly as he brought Shiro to the bed, setting him down and moving into bed beside him. "We... we should talk about that. Do you want to talk about it? I think- I think it would help, but whatever you're comfortable with, we'll do. Okay?" he asked softly, taking Shiro's human hand and pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles.

Shiro's bottom lip quivered a bit. He turned and pulled Lance into another hug, holding him tightly -- oh so tightly -- against his chest. He buried his head into Lance's shoulder, took a deep breath, and let it out in a long, shaky sigh. Shiro hugged him wordlessly for a few moments, just focusing on holding himself together. Just focusing on Lance's warmth.

"I hate this," he mumbled after a while. "Why... why would he tell me? Of all fucking times? God. Shit. It's Keith all the fuck over again. I lead him on, didn't I? I did... I did something... Fuck."

Shiro took another breath, and held it for a long moment. He hugged Lance a little tighter. He squeezed him closer. Seconds ticked on... and the moment passed. Shiro let out his breath in the same fashion he had done before, and slackened his grip. He leaned away, wiped at his eyes again, and shook his head.

"I'm tired," he said quietly. "I just want to take a nap. I don't want to think about... about him anymore. I just want to be with you..."

"Shiro," Lance began softly, running his fingers through his hair. "First, I love your haircut," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Shiro's mouth. "Second- you can't blame yourself. Ever. He told you. That's that. It's not because you led him on or because he wanted pity or because you did anything. He needed to get it off his chest and he did, just... not at a good time." He smiled a little, resting his forehead against Shiro's. "Never blame yourself for someone else's feelings. And especially don't blame yourself when you did nothing to lead Lotor on."

He sank under the blanket, bringing it up to his chin and snuggling close to Shiro. "Come on, handsome," he said with a warm smile. "Let's get some sleep, okay? We can deal with it a little later."

Shiro looked at him, his stare going soft at Lance's sincerity. His soft tone and his kind, supporting words felt completely sublime against the harsh snaps and wrath from Lotor. He curled in close with him, sighing deeply, this breath much more ironed out than the other two. He kissed Lance's forehead, and closed his eyes.

"I love you," he murmured, the softest of smiles pulling at his lips. "You always know how to make me feel better..."

Lance, mumbling a soft 'fuck it' under his breath, pulled Shiro in for a proper kiss, melting against his lips. It was slow and cautious and oh-so-loving as he made sure to put Shiro's needs as a priority. Right now, Shiro needed love and comfort and Lance, with his delicate kissing, was supplying all that was requested of him.

"I love you too," he breathed as he pulled back, a warm smile on his lips. "I'll always love you. And I hope that we move to England soon."

Shiro fluttered his eyes open, his smile a little wider than before. He leaned forward and kissed Lance again -- just a few needy pecks here and there, but still kisses to the lips... it made his tired system flush. "We should be leaving soon," he hummed in between kisses, tone a bit warmer. "Once you're totally better, we're leaving. That's what L... that's what I was told." Shiro kissed Lance one final time, holding it for a little longer than the others. When he pulled away, he offered a quiet sigh, lifting a hand to hold Lance's cheek, a tired look of loving shimmering about his features.

"If only we could leave right now. Leave this stupid ass hotel and this fucking shit city," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Whatever. Let's just... go to sleep. For a while. That'd be great."


	34. Healthy Again

Lance woke up feeling a lot better, much more so for waking up beside Shiro and no longer being so sick. The blinds had been closed for a short while to keep the bright sun from disturbing Lance, which allowed for him to sleep in a little later. One glance to the clock showed that it was almost half past eleven. His boyfriend had yet to stir, but Shiro had more things to worry about than waking up on a deadline so Lance would let him sleep off his worries for just a little longer.

The bed was warm, incredibly cosy. The warmth of three (Lance, Shiro and the dog) was providing extreme comfort and Lance was more reluctant than ever to haul himself out of bed. In all honesty, all that he wanted to do was sleep for a little longer in this little warm huddle. Surely, whatever else was happening wherever in the world- it could wait for him to wake up. The universe had more to deal with than getting Lance out of bed.

Especially when he shifted a little closer to Shiro and pressed into his neck for a little more warmth. His boyfriend was the perfect hugging size, especially for someone as tired and clingy as Lance.

He rubbed his eyes a little, pressing a soft kiss to a hickey he'd left. He didn't want to wake up Shiro, but he needed to get his input on breakfast, so he gently began to nudge his boyfriend to try to wake him up, coaxing him from his sleep with soft murmurs of his name.

Shiro stirred a little, groaning, his eyes squeezing shut a little tighter before he turned his head and fluttered them open. His first sight was Lance looking down on him, a bit blurry with that glaze of sleep and the lack of his glasses, but Lance nonetheless. Shiro smiled, a warm feeling suddenly blooming about his system. He leaned forward into Lance, pressing his head into Lance's chest and breathing in Lance's smell. Shiro closed his eyes, and gave a tired sigh.

"G'mornin'," he slurred in a sleepy murmur, voice muffled by Lance's shirt. Shiro pulled his legs up a little, curling up beside Lance. "Or is it morning? We..." there was a pause to yawn. "We fell asleep really early last night, right? Whatever. Good morning..."

"Morning," he nodded as he pressed a little closer to Shiro. "Mm- what's on the agenda for today?" he asked as he ran his fingers along his chest. "Staying in bed? Going to get breakfast before it's lunchtime and we aren't able to?" he asked, leaning in and pressing his lips to Shiro's forehead. They could be dressed and piling their plates high in about ten minutes if he were lucky.

He looked down at Shiro, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "You're awful cuddly today, Takashi," he mused with a fondness in his eyes. "How did you sleep?"

"Good," Shiro hummed, smiling. He rolled away from Lance, and pushed up on his elbows, slowly pushing himself into a sit. Shiro reached his arms up over his head, gave a grunted stretch, and then yawned into his fist again. He sat for a moment, rubbing his eyes, thinking. "I don't want to get up but... something warm with a whole lot of espresso sounds great right about now..."

There was another pause, and the atmosphere dipped a bit. "But I also don't want to go down there and see any of... them. At all. I'm so fucking done with all of them, man."

Shiro gave a soft sigh, and shrugged his shoulders a little. He turned to look at Lance, and offered a weak smile. "I... whatever. It's whatever you want to do, though," he said softly. "How... how did you sleep?"

"I slept well." He leant up and pecked Shiro's lips. "It was really comfy to be beside you. Also- sweetheart, we should go get breakfast. If we see them, we just ignore them. Okay? Lotor never leaves the lab and Allura and Romelle would be too clingy with each other to care if they say us. Coran would be the only person we could see without feeling miserable," he said as he pressed loving kisses along Shiro's jaw.

"Come on," he finally urged as he began to slip out of bed. "Come on. Let's go to get something to eat."

Shiro gave a sigh and followed him, slowly pulling himself out of bed. "Alright," he said in a drawled, tired sort of tone. He looked down at himself, still in the same tee shirt and joggers he wore the day before. He shrugged his shoulders again. "I'm not getting dressed though. This is fine."

He went over to where his boots were slumped in the corner. Shiro pulled them on, stood up straight, and pet Black, who'd been dozing contently in the windowsill. He turned around, and looked at Lance slipping on his own shoes. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Lance nodded, having pulled on some sweatpants. "Let's go, handsome." He gave Shiro's ass a nice slap before turning and starting to walk out their apartment.

"Hey- Lance!" Shiro gave a wild blush, and chased after him. "Not fair," he muttered with a sharp smirk when he finally did catch up, wrapping his arm over Lance's shoulder.

Lance brought Blue down, solely because she'd need to relieve herself and it would be good to get her to stretch her legs at least a little before ending up back in their room.

"Should I let them know that I feel better so that they can book us a plane for tomorrow?" he asked fondly, holding Shiro's hand and intertwining their fingers while leading his boyfriend and his dog to the elevator. He pressed the button and soon he had stepped into the elevator, crouching on the floor as Blue jumped onto his leg, yapping excitedly at him. It was like she could tell that he was all better today, kissing him and running circles around him before jumping up at him again to yap excitedly.

Shiro leaned against the wall of the elevator, looking down at Lance and Blue with a fond sparkle in his eyes. "That sounds nice," he said warmly, nodding. The elevator dinged, and jerked a little, signaling their arrival. Shiro pushed off against the wall, stepped over to Lance, and offered a hand. "You can talk to them, and I'll order drinks. Meet back up at that seat in the corner? The booth?"

"Mhm," he said as he pecked his cheek. "I love you. I'll come through in just a moment." He pressed another kiss to Shiro's cheek, disappearing to go to the lab, sending one last glance over his shoulder to where Shiro had been stood before he knocked on and, when getting permission, entered the lab.

Shiro watched Lance slip into the lab, a nervous feeling thrumming about his stomach as he turned back around. The line was short, and the service was an excellent sort of snappy, so Shiro found himself waiting a bit anxiously in their booth with two cups of steaming caramel coffee. He found his eyes flicking towards the lab, tapping his fingers about the lid of his coffee cup. He wondered if Lance would snap at Lotor about the night before... he didn't want that to happen... but he also didn't want Lotor to get away scot free for everything. Shiro also certainly didn't want to talk to Lotor himself.

He gave a sigh and leaned back, closing his eyes and tipping his head against the back cushion of the booth. What was taking so long? He tried to shove the thought from his head, taking a tired sip of his coffee. Hopefully he'd be back soon...

And, as if on cue, Lance strode in. He dashed over the table as soon as his eyes landed on Shiro and settled beside him. Then, he began to sip on his hot drink as he settled down.

"Thank you! It tastes really good. Allura said that they'll be looking for a flight to leave at around midday from an airport two hours from here because it would run the risk of getting mafia attention and whatever. But- the point is, we're leaving tomorrow!" He pulled Shiro in for a quick kiss, leaning against him as he started to drain a little more of his coffee.

Shiro smiled at him, his hand at Lance's waist, pulling him closer in a relieved sort of half hug. With Lance back and everything seemingly fine, Shiro relaxed enough to take a sip of his own drink. He drank a long gulp, savored the warmth in his chest and the sweet bitterness on his tongue for a moment, and then sighed.

"Tomorrow? Wow. Finally. That's awesome, Lance," he said, his gratefulness very apparent in his tone. Shiro flicked his gaze to the lab, and then back to Lance again, his next question a little hesitant as it left his tongue. "So... was it just Allura in the lab or..." Shiro trailed off into an awkward silence, and then started back up again. "You didn't say anything to Lotor right?"  
"Lotor?" he echoed. "Everyone was there but him. He wasn't even at his desk. No USB, not even his bag." He swung his legs over onto Shiro's lap and shifted a little closer, content with their embrace. "Allura said that she'll bring us our boarding passes tomorrow morning, either in the car to the airport or not."

The coffee was good, already picking him up a little and rejuvenating him. And now that he had a clear head, no stuffy nose, etcetera- he was feeling a lot better.

"He wasn't even at his desk?" Shiro echoed, voice a little distant. His eyes flicked upwards -- towards the ceiling. A soft pinch of guilt bit at his gut, and Shiro lifted his free hand to rub at the back of his neck, his teeth once again finding that spot in his cheek. "I wonder if he's okay..."

After a moment or so, Shiro blinked hard, and then shook his head. "Whatever," he mumbled. "I... I don't care. I'm... I'm actually kind of pissed off at him, anyways." Shiro took his hand from his neck, and found his coffee again, taking a long sip before settling it back down a bit harshly upon the table. He grit his teeth a little, letting his emotions distort and fester in his chest.

"That was... really fucked up of him, right? Like, I get that he was upset and everything but... barging into my room? Telling me off? All while he was high? Getting high and doing stupid shit is a real Shiro thing to do but I never would go and tell anyone off like that, you know?"

"He did knock, though," Lance mumbled. "And you let him in. I... it was pretty shit, yeah, but... I don't know. It isn't my business," he said, shrugging it off a little as he watched Shiro. "Are you going to talk to him? Allura said that it was likely he'd not come to the airport with us now that she had Romelle to accompany her."

He finished the rest of his coffee and set it down, moving back a little. "So- I mean... it's a literal 'now-or-never' kind of situation, you know?"

"Oh hell no," Shiro muttered, shaking his head. "Not a chance... not a single... not a single fucking chance..."

He paused for a moment, silent as he thought -- silent as his mind worked and turned, trying to justify himself and his answer. After that moment or so, Shiro suddenly gave a groan, pulled his arm from Lance, and slouched over onto the table in a dramatic slump. He turned his head to the side, his cheek pressed against the cool surface of the table as he stared up at Lance with a tired sort of glare.

"I have to, don't I?" he murmured quietly, his voice tired. "Doesn't matter how awkward it's gonna be... or how much he's going to hate me... I have to. Ugh..."

Lance leant down, pecking his lips.

"I think so," he said as he let his head rest on the table beside Shiro, studying his features. "Better to try and get it over with today than to regret not doing it tomorrow." He reached up, brushing some of Shiro's bangs from his face and smiling warmly. "Besides, I want a haircut and if you get on good terms with him again, he'll give me one."

Shiro gave a sigh. "Alright," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "You know I could cut your hair for you, right?"

Smiling, Lance sat up and began to stand. "You hungry? I was planning on checking out the food just to see if I fancy anything. I've not eaten anything proper since yesterday, babe! I could die!" he said, an abrupt subject change that somehow conveyed his feelings toward Shiro cutting his hair perfectly. He was just not voicing it. Instead, he was already starting to stride toward the buffet without waiting for a response.

Shiro gave a snort and watched Lance run off. "Get me a muffin!" he called after him, pushing up from his sluggish lean over the table. Lance gave him a thumbs-up over his shoulder.

Some eyes and some heads turned Shiro's way, but he shrugged them off, his own very fond focus on Lance and Lance alone. Shiro waited patiently for him to return, all smiles when Lance made his way back over, a plate in one hand and a steaming, blueberry muffin in the other. Shiro reached a grabby hand out towards the muffin, laughing a little when Lance pulled it away.

"C'mon," he whined, still caught in his overly-dramatic melancholy attitude from before. "Gimme." Shiro reached again, successfully snatched his muffin, and then leaned back into the booth, a proud look on his face as he peeled off the wrapper. He stuck his tongue out at Lance, and took his first bite, mouth full of breading and blueberries when he spoke again. "I'll finish this, swing up to Lotor's room, get that over with, and then come back to find you. What are you gonna do while I'm making up with Lotor for the fiftieth time, huh?"

Lance shrugged a little, currently eating hash browns, having a plate piled high with as many different things he could have gotten that looked like they would have tasted good. "Probably," he began through a mouthful, shovelling some scrambled eggs into his mouth. "I'll go see Allura again. Ask if she's been to the precinct." He glanced over at Shiro, offering some of the scrambled eggs to Shiro, holding it out on his fork. Shiro had said he'd only eat scrambled eggs, right? Lance was sure he remembered hearing Shiro say that. He was sure.

Shiro grinned at him, leaned forward, and took the bite of eggs right off of Lance's fork. He leaned back, hummed contently at the taste, and then swallowed. "Oh, alright," he said softly, nodding his head. "Then you could, like, ask about your old buddies and stuff... that would be nice, I guess."

Lance swallowed the food in his mouth and, while cutting up some more hash browns and some of the bacon, spoke again. "I've been really worried about Hunk lately. Do you think- Do you think I could get Lotor to do what he did for you? I learned Hunk's phone number. We learned each others numbers because we always got lost at parties or concerts or whatever, so if I didn't have my phone or he didn't have his, he could still call somehow." He fed himself another few mouthfuls of food at once.

"And one time he called me from a payphone," he continued, smiling a little, "because he was drunk after a party or something that I didn't go to because I wasn't invited or I was working or something. But- but he just calls me out of nowhere and I answer because he hadn't been on his phone for a while so I assumed it was him. Anyway- I expected him to be upset and want picking up or something because I knew how to drive and he had no way of getting back but- but he just called me from a payphone down the road from the party, totally drunk, just to remind me that he loves me and wish me luck while I was studying and such. It was really sweet. And- and we were dating back then, so it meant the world to me." His cheeks were a little red now and he was smiling warmly. "So I want to call him. Tell him I'm okay, maybe tell him about going to England. I'd kill to have him visit us, Shiro. He's been my best friend since we were, what, six?"

Lance turned his gaze to his place. His smile faded and he set the fork down, having lost his appetite.

Friends since they were six, joined the academy together, did everything together (from studying to resitting exams, even if only one of them failed), and now... now Hunk thought he was dead. Missing, sure, but- but likely dead. And thinking about it made his chest ache. He desperately wanted to talk to Hunk again.

Shiro looked at him a moment, frowning a little. He set his muffin down on the table, and moved to wrap one arm around Lance's shoulders. His other hand went Lance's face, cupping his cheek and turning his head a little. "I'll make sure you're able to talk to him," Shiro assured quietly, nodding. "Even if Lotor doesn't help you out, I'll make sure Allura does, okay? You'll talk to Hunk again... maybe... maybe he could even visit... but I don't know. That's up to Allura and Lotor I guess."

He moved forward and pressed gentle kiss to Lance's temple, pulling back with the softest smile on his face. "You can tell him all about your hot boyfriend, too," he said in a warm, joking sort of tone. "I'm sure he'd love to hear all the cute details. Besties die for that sorta stuff, right?"

"Oh, definitely. Knowing Hunk, he'll probably start talking about Shay again. He's been dating her for... I think about a year now. Used to drive me insane, always hearing about her. You know- she's a weightlifter, apparently. Super strong. She can lift him up, too! And-" he fell quiet, just smiling a little. "I'd really appreciate it if you could get me a call with Hunk. I don't care if it's with Allura or Lotor. I just miss talking to him."

"Of course," Shiro said softly, his grin a bit brighter at Lance's own lift in mood. "I won't leave them alone until I get a yes. And trust me, I can get pretty annoying if I have to."

"Yeah, I know."

Shiro gave a dramatic gasp. "Gee, thanks," Shiro snorted, shaking his head in a joking disbelief.

He laughed a little, and took his hand from Lance's face. Shiro finished up the rest of his muffin, arm still slung about Lance's shoulder, fingertips running idle circles about his arm and his back as the two ate and chatted. After all that remained of his deliciously baked good was crumbs scattered about the table and its crumpled up wrapper, Shiro gave Lance a squeeze of a hug before pulling his arm back, and slipping from his booth. He held his hand out for Lance's garbage, a soft smile on his face.

"I'm gonna head up to Lotor's room. Get this over with," he explained, nodding back towards the elevators. "I'll throw your stuff away and scrape your plate while I'm up." Watching him for a moment, Lance nodded.  
"Yeah," he said as he stood. "I'll go to the lab and start pleading my case to Allura to get her permission to call Hunk," he said. He used Shiro's outstretched hand to pull himself up before handing Shiro the plate. He then leant up on his tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Shiro's cheek.

He moved back a little, beginning to the door. "I love you!" he said to Shiro, before turning and leaving, listening out for an 'I love you too!' (which Shiro sweetly replied with) before he would leave the room properly. The door closed behind him and he began on his route back toward Allura. He was hoping he would be able to talk to Hunk.

He missed him so much.

Shiro watched the door of the labs a few moments, incredibly reluctant to turn and make his way to the elevator. He did of course... but it took a while. And then it took awhile for him to press the buttons. And then it took awhile for him to leave the elevator when it stopped on Lotor's floor. And then it took him awhile to work his way through the halls. And then it took the longest while to raise his fist and knock on Lotor's door when he found it. A very, very long while, indeed.

Shiro stood, hands nervously fumbling with one another as he leaned from foot to foot. He rose his hand, held it there for a second, and then dropped it back down. Hesitation and worry were misting so heavily about his system, Shiro found himself contemplating just turning around and walking away from it all more than once. Back and forth his head went -- back and forth back and forth. Did he knock? Did he leave? What would he say? What would he do? Should he plan? Should he improvise? All his choices twisted and turned in his mind, each one just as loud as the next.

More moments passed. Finally, on what seemed to be the largest leap of impulse he could experience, Shiro rose his fist, and knocked on the door in one swift rap. He flinched at the sound, surprised at himself. For a second, he considered running away, taking a step backwards in his nervous panic. Shiro swallowed hard, shook his head, and composed himself. He knocked again. Firmly this time.

The door slowly swung open after a few long moments and there he stood. Lotor. With chapped lips, pale skin, his eyes sunken and one hand holding ice to his head while his other hand clutched some cold water.

He was hungover.

And, as it became clear, quite surprised to see Shiro at his door.

"Shit- Shiro?" he asked, glancing down at himself. He was wearing only a pair of boxers and rather loose shorts, no shirt, with his hair tugged back into a loose, messy ponytail. Whoever he had thought would be at his door- it wasn't Shiro. And he suddenly felt very, very self-conscious about being shirtless.

"Come in! I- I just need a moment to... to get dressed," he said after a moment, stepping aside before dashing through to the bedroom and pulling on a sweater. It was large, lavender, and had a little embroidered snake on the left breast. He drained the rest of his glass and left it on the bedside table before tugging his hair down. He brushed through it, taming it, before putting it back up in a neat braid. Then he put on some better-fitting shorts, as the ones he'd just picked up had a broken waistband and threatened to fall down at any second.

He glanced in the mirror, going to the bathroom and splashing some cold water onto his face, washing it. He was putting in an awful lot of effort for Shiro and he didn't even know why. But, momentarily, he was in the living room with Shiro.

"Sorry about that," he said as he sat down beside him. "I'm a little hungover. I... I drank a lot last night. What did you come here for?"

Shiro stood in Lotor's living room, eyes wide. He looked Lotor up and down, his head cocked. "You... you don't remember..." he said slowly, more so stating the fact for himself aloud than explaining it to Lotor.

He looked down at his feet, a hot blush creeping up over his cheeks. Shit. He hadn't thought about that. Lotor had been absolutely wasted the night before... of course he wouldn't have been able to remember. Shiro hesitated a few moments, pulling his hands up to his shoulders in an awkward sort of self-hug. He didn't let his eyes trail up to Lotor and his braids and his sweater.

"How much do you remember, Lotor? You came into my room last night... you were... kind of a mess," he muttered, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"Woah, Shiro," Lotor said with a nervous smile. "You're acting as though we had sex. Just... tell me what happened. All I can remember from yesterday is returning here, getting high, having something to drink and then... that's just about it. I didn't do anything humiliating, did I?"

He leant back slightly in his chair, noting Shiro's body language. Tense, seeking comfort from himself. He was clearly nervous, making himself smaller and hesitating for every little thing that he said. "Did... I did, didn't I? I thought I'd have just stayed in my room and dealt with my emotions however I could've, but instead- instead I went to you. Please, just tell me what I did so that I know what to apologise for." All Lotor could do was hope that he hadn't said anything too bad. He'd not meant to do whatever he had done. He hadn't intended on leaving his room, much less leaving the couch, but intoxicated Lotor was almost an entirely different person.

His eyes were fixed on Shiro, full of worry and nervousness, anxiety causing nausea and filling his mind with poisonous little thoughts, each one like a little needle to stab at his brain, telling him that he'd made a mistake he'd never recover from. That Shiro hated him now. That he had done something unforgivable.

He just stayed quiet, though, choosing to ignore the nervousness, even if his nails were digging into his flesh without his realising.

Shiro had been blushing deeply, and he had been ever since Lotor mentioned anything about sex. "We did not have sex," Shiro started off firmly, shaking his head. "Like that really didn't happen."

He took a deep breath, trying to think of how to start. Shiro had expected to just talk about what had happened the night before... not explain every last detail of the incident to the damn guy. "I... I'm not gonna lie to you Lotor. You said... a lot," he said, his tone almost painful as he went on. "You were really pissed at me for all that stuff you overheard. Told me off. Not saying I didn't deserve it but... when I told you to put down the blunt you kinda... kinda snapped. You talked about Allura... and why you guys broke up. And you talked about Zarkon a little. You... you said that I broke your trust and that I hated you. You said..."

Shiro trailed off, wondering if he could get the words out himself. After an exhausting moment or so of his voice getting stuck in his throat, Shiro took a deep breath, held it a moment, and let it go as he spoke. "You said you had feelings for me. Something like that. I... I don't know if you meant it or not... or... shit, Lotor. I don't know. You stormed out after that. I just wanted to some by an make sure you're okay and to... talk about it, I guess. If you want to, I mean. I... I'd totally understand if you didn't want to..."

He kept his eyes firmly planted on the floor below him. Shiro didn't want to see Lotor's reaction. Oh, he couldn't bear to see Lotor's reaction. He could almost feel the mortification already... it made his skin crawl.

Lotor was... not receiving the news well. The idea alone that he'd said so much, made his chest tighten and his head swarm with toxic thoughts. He couldn't figure out what to say. He didn't know what to say.

"I..." he bit his tongue, stopping himself, running through every word he could say for this. "I would like, first of all, to... to apologise. It wasn't fair on you for me to go to your room, while intoxicated, and... say anything."

He thought out each word he said, too anxious about saying one thing wrong and risking deteriorating the situation further. "I hope you can forgive me for that. For all of it. And yet... I can't quite tell you I was lying. I wish I could, but... The point is- I'm not going to lie or say that I'm not feeling anything toward you, but I want to clarify that I... that my feelings are entirely irrelevant to you and your- your relationship. Feel free to... ignore it. Forget about it."

He rubbed his arms, keeping his gaze on the floor. "God, and I thought that being hungover was bad enough."

His eyes flickered to Shiro for just a moment, one little hesitant moment, before he averted his eyes a second later. "Is there anything specific had wanted to discuss? I don't want to leave anything... untouched... if you want to discuss it. Though, we could always discuss it some other time if you don't want to talk about today." Ah. And now Shiro would need to break the news to Lotor that he was leaving the following day. Today wasn't going well at all.

Shiro rose his shoulders a little, letting his eyes flick up to Lotor on the sofa. He held them there, relieved Lotor hadn't been looking back. "Well, Lance and I are leaving tomorrow so... it's now or never," he said quietly, moving over to the coffee table. Shiro lowered himself down to sit at the edge, his gaze now turned forward to his feet, away from Lotor again as he thought about how to continue. "I wasn't... I didn't lead you on did I? I- apparently I have a tendency to do that. I get... flirty? I guess? Yeah, flirty with my friends. I lead Keith on. I lead my highschool friend Matt on. Made them both think I like-liked them and broke their hearts when I said I didn't. When I said I couldn't."

He reached a hand upto rub the back of his neck, swallowing hard. In an impulse, he turned his head to look at Lotor, trying to catch his stare. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I don't feel the same way... I'm sorry I can't. Also sorry for being totally useless last night and not telling you that then... though I don't think you'd remember if I did..."

Lotor was deathly silent for a few agonisingly long moments.

"You hadn't been leading me on. The playful flirting was just playful and I knew that, but it was my own mistake to have any feelings for you. To harness them. Not to just ignore them until they disappeared, like usual."

He rubbed his eyes, sighing softly, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor now. Out of shame, most likely. "Don't blame yourself for whatever happened. It wasn't your fault at all. It was mine." He ran one hand through his hair a little. What a miserable way to start a day. "And I'm incredibly sorry. But- I do appreciate you telling me about all of this..."

Shiro looked at him, his frowning gaze growing a bit more concerned than anything. "It's alright, Lotor," he said quietly, shrugging his shoulders. "You had to get it off your chest I guess. I don't mind."

He stood from his spot on the table, sighing a little. That hadn't gone... quite as bad as he expected it to. Of course he could hear the embarrassment and the disparity in Lotor's quiet tone, but Shiro wasn't being yelled at. He wasn't being hit or anything. And Lotor was... mostly sober. It was painful but... not as painful as it could have been.

"I'm sorry for all that stuff I said in the lab, though," Shiro said after a moment or so. "I shouldn't have said anything. It was rude." Lotor laughed softly in response.  
"No, no, I- I can't hold that against you. Everyone was just being honest and assumed I couldn't hear. I can't criticise them for saying stuff that they didn't expect to be caught saying." He turned his eyes back to Shiro, offering a small and tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

And the conversation fizzled. That was about as much as he had expected. After all, it wasn't an overly cheerful subject so neither of them wanted to dwell on it. The death of such a conversation was only to be anticipated.

The ghostly silence of that atmosphere remained for a good handful of moments. Shiro searched for something to say — something that could ease him into his exit. Lotor probably wanted to be alone. Lance was waiting for him... Shiro twiddled his thumbs together, and opened his mouth to speak.

"I... I would ask you to come downstairs for like coffee or something but... Lance is waiting for me," he said softly, his tone apologetic and sincere. "He... uh... heard everything last night. I figure things might be a little awkward. But... before I go we should get one last coffee though, right? That would be nice, I think." Lotor nodded.  
"I would appreciate that. When would we be able to do it? I don't know how I would feel about going with Lance after all... of our previous incidents. He's surprisingly malicious."

He would really like that. It was fun to spend time with Shiro and he'd appreciate spending more time with Shiro before he left. Besides, knowing Allura, he'd not be permitted to interact with either Shiro or Lance after they'd moved. "Although, if he wouldn't mind, I would like to take you both out for coffee sometime. Today or tomorrow, I don't mind. There's a place nearby that's quite cute if you two would like a quiet date- I can get a different table and keep to myself."

Shiro nodded a little, allowing himself to smile. "That would be nice. I'll talk to him about it," he said, giving a soft shrug. "Hopefully we can go out sometime today. Lance wants to visit that payphone anyways... he has a good friend he's been worrying about for a while. He might be asking Allura right now, but still thought I should tell you."

He jutted his thumb over his shoulder, pointing back towards the door. "I should get going... but cafe date-" Shiro almost stuttered into a regretful pause at the accidental phrase, but he rescued himself, figuring the silence would have been a hell of a lot more awkward, "-would totally be great. Thanks for... hearing me out, I guess. Just take it easy and everything. Drink like water and all that shit. You're, uh, really hungover." Lotor murmured his thanks and something along the lines of 'I've experienced worse' before standing.

He checked his phone for a moment, after it had buzzed. Allura had texted. He was just going to pretend he didn't receive it. For now, he was focusing on Shiro.

"Well, if she says no, you know who to come to. She can't hate me much more than she already does!" he grinned, clearly joking. "And have fun talking with Lance again. I've always got your back, both of you, so come to me if you need anything."

Shiro gave a soft laugh, and a warmly muttered, "alright..." He turned to leave, his system feeling much brighter than before.

He got himself a new glass of water and stood by the door so he could let Shiro out and wave him off before closing the door. His eyes were fixed on Shiro as he approached, deciding to focus on his drink instead of letting his mind linger back to the 'cafe date' comment that he knew was an accident. That he wasn't going to overthink about. He held out one hand for Shiro to shake.

"Come get me whenever you need me, alright?" he asked, reassuring Shiro that he could trust Lotor. "I'm always here. Or in the lab. I don't usually visit anywhere else."

Smiling much more than before, Shiro took Lotor's hand, and shook it. "Of course man," he said softly.

There was a moment's pause, their hands clasped, their eyes locked... and Shiro thought of something. Something that he couldn't quite push away. Shiro took in a soft breath, grasped Lotor's hand a little tighter, and then pulled him into a hug. It wasn't anything too romantic. Nothing too tender or too teasing. Just a firm, one armed hug of support, the breath he let go with the hug relaxing and relieved. He didn't let it last too long, he didn't let it get too awkward. Shiro just hugged him, sighed, and then pulled back. He gave another smile at Lotor, and at that sparkle in Lotor's eyes, and then rose his shoulders a little.

"I'm glad we were able to talk. All the talks. About everything," he said. "It's great not to hate you anymore. You're cool."

"And it's great not to be hated anymore," Lotor said, the hug having soothed his nerves drastically. It had eased tension from his body that he hadn't even known about. He'd hug him again if it wouldn't seem weird. "I'll be sad to see you go and I hope that we'll be able to talk sometime after you've left."

He finally opened the door, despite his it took a lot of self control not to lock it and hug Shiro desperately and tell him he didn't want him to go. He stepped to the side a little. "Just knock if and when you need me, Shiro. For anything, not just to go out or because I was a high, drunk mess the night before and said some stupid shit." He took another sip from his glass. "Alright? I'll see you."

"Thanks, man. Means a lot," Shiro answered, nodding. He began to turn, offering a friendly nod of his head as he left. "I'll see you, Lotor. Bye..."

With that, Shiro left. He turned to look over his shoulder when he was stopped at the elevators, wondering if Lotor had still been there. Sure enough... he was. Shiro saw Lotor leaning against the doorframe, watching him go. Shiro offered him a wave as the doors slid open, called another goodbye, and then turned to leave down to the lobby.

After a ride down and some searching, Shiro found Lance in the lab with Allura and Romelle. He didn't knock, just popped his head in, hoping to catch sight of Lance, and simply slipped inside when he saw his very healthy looking boyfriend leaned against the wall by the computer. Shiro, already considerably bright, brightened up some more, and made his way over to Lance. He looped and arm over his shoulder, and placed the other one on his hip, leaning in for a kiss. It was a nice kiss -- nice and sweet and long. Oh, how he had missed kisses such as those all that time Lance was sick. Shiro only had a moment or so to slip some tongue... but then he heard a sigh from beside him, and pulled away.

Allura and Romelle had been watching, both looking fairly uncomfortable. Romelle lifted her hands to her eyes. "Oh no, you guys can continue," she muttered weakly, turning into her girlfriend's shoulder. "Don't mind us or anything."

"Sorry," Shiro hummed, voice slick with sarcasm. He shifted around to stand beside Lance, hand looped about Lance's waist.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Lance said with more sincerity than Shiro (though that wasn't a difficult achievement) as he pressed a little closer to his boyfriend. "His fault. I'll make sure to scold him properly when we get back to our room."

"Oh really now..." Shiro murmured sweetly into his ear, voice dropped down to a purr. Romelle gave another uncomfortable sort of sigh, and Shiro only replied with a sharp laugh, and another chuckled apology.

Lance settled his hand in Shiro's back pocket, out of sight, just for the sake of it. His head was resting on Shiro's chest.

"I was talking to them about calling Hunk. Allura doesn't think I should because she can pass on any messages from me. She's already promised him that I'm alive but, knowing Hunk, he took that as reassurance. Although- I'd not think anything different. I really want to call him and Romelle is on my side but it ultimately comes down to Allura and she's saying no." His voice was a little weighed down with sadness now, as if it was just starting to settle that he'd never speak to Hunk again- and the last time he had spoken to him was to say he wasn't going to go to work.

"All I've been saying," Allura said sternly. "Is that I can't stop him when he goes to England, but right now it's too risky. I don't want him calling Hunk and saying something he shouldn't that gets all of us killed! Besides- as Lance said, I can pass on any and all information that Lance wants me to tell Hunk. He's my colleague. I'm just currently taking a few days off, as is Hunk, because of your disappearance."

Lance grit his teeth a little but stayed silent. Evidently, he'd argued his case before Shiro had arrived and nothing had changed. He wasn't going to waste his breath trying to argue again. Not with Allura. She had made up her mind and it wouldn't change. He'd known her for a few years at this point so he was well aware of that.

Shiro, on the other hand, didn't have the same idea. Allura's stern tone had irked him more than it should have. He could feel the annoyance of her know-it-all tone digging and nipping at his system -- prodding at it like some sort of bugging child desperate for his attention. Shiro tried to stuff his suddenly vexed attitude back a bit, biting at his cheek. Their relationship had been a bit precarious already... he didn't quite want to wreck it up further.

But he did argue back. Lance, despite knowing it was futile, appreciated the gesture.

"Lance isn't an idiot," he said, voice a bit cooler than before. Shiro paused a second, and tried to regain his patience to better soothe his tone. "It's not like he's gonna send Hunk an invite to a birthday party at your place. He just wants to talk to the guy for a few minutes. You can trust him enough for that, right?"

Shiro leaned into Lance a bit, and shrugged his shoulders. "It'll just be like when I called Keith," he hummed. "Quick conversation. No details. A goodbye. That's it. There's nothing to worry about, Allura."

"But still, I'm worried! You've known Lance for, what, weeks? I've been his friend for years! I know more than you do about him!"

Lance shrunk back a little, wrapping his arms around himself as a source of comfort. He kept silent, though.

"Keep out of it, Shiro. I'll reassure Hunk, but I'm putting my foot down. No calls." Her voice was still firm, she didn't waver, she didn't submit. No body language grave away with her irritation. The only thing that did was the anger burning in her eyes. She was growing sick and tired of Shiro doubting her, insulting her, disrespecting her authority. She was beginning to wish that she'd purchased the plane tickets for this evening instead of tomorrow afternoon. It would definitely have saved her from a headache.

Shiro narrowed his eyes at her, scowling darkly. "Yeah, sure. You know more about Lance than I do," he muttered, straightening up off of the wall. Shiro gave a sigh, and began to turn, one hand gently tugging at Lance's wrist. "But it's pretty obvious who cares about him more. Come on, Lance. Let's go upstairs and pack."

Without another word, and without letting Allura give any sort of response, Shiro left, dragging Lance along with him. The second they got outside the lab, and Shiro had shut the door and moved far from earshot, Shiro stopped, and turned to look at Lance.

"So we'll ask Lotor," he said, shrugging. "If for some reason Lotor says no, we'll just go on our own. You're calling Hunk, Lance. I made a promise."

Lance looked up at Shiro and for half a second there were shining tears in his eyes. He latched his arms tightly round Shiro, as if he expected him to disappear in a second. His body was trembling noticeably. The scolding from Allura- her scathing tone and avid cruelty in her 'protection' has caused Lance such emotional distress that he could barely bring himself to release Shiro from his desperate clutches. Shiro, of course, held him back tightly. He pulled him in close, as if his hug could soothe those jittering trembles from Lance's muscles and Lance's flesh.

They both held each other there in that lobby, neither exactly wanting to let go...

And yet, after only a moment or two longer, Lance managed to pry himself from the comfort of his boyfriend. "Thank you," he only mumbled, pulling away from Shiro and beginning to the elevator. His pinkie finger had hooked with Shiro's though, and even though the gesture itself was delicate and gentle, fragile even, the hold he had on Shiro with his smallest finger was as desperate as his embrace. He didn't want to let go of his boyfriend. Not now. Not ever.

Impatiently pressing the button for the elevator and tapping his foot irritably while he waited, Lance was making it clear that his patience was running thin.

"Which floor is Lotor's room on again?" He questioned impatiently, his teeth grinding against each other as he attempted to channel his emotions into something other than breaking down and sobbing. No matter how much he wanted to do so.

"Third floor," Shiro said softly, moving a little closer to him. He thought about wrapping a supportive arm about Lance, in hopes of comforting that obvious distress from his system, but Lance also looked a bit... frantic. Shiro didn't want to overwhelm him or make him feel stifled. Instead, Shiro's pinkie curled a bit more around Lance's, and he let their shoulders delicately bump and hold against one another.

The elevator dinged and then opened, and Lance dragged Shiro inside. Shiro pressed the button for the third floor, and the doors slid to their slow mechanical close. He looked down into Lance's sparkling eyes and twisted, frowning lips, and frowned himself, his own brow furrowing with concern. The elevator shifted a little, and then began to rise. Shiro's pinkie tightened against Lance's again.

It was a welcomed gesture.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, cocking his head. "If you need a moment, Lance, that's alright." Shiro's free hand moved towards the elevator pad, finger hovering over the red emergency stop button. "I can stop the elevator if you do..."

Lance let his eyes flicker from the floor, where he had been studying a small and dark scuff mark left on the floor.

"I..." he considered declining. Refusing and saying that he was fine but it was past time for that. Before he could even bring himself to speak, to say 'no, I'll be okay', a few hot tears had spilled down his cheeks. They were almost burning his skin and he became suddenly aware of how warm Shiro's hand felt,reflecting how cold he was. Had he always been shivering? He nodded, deathly silent. He didn't want to say anything for fear of letting out nought but sobs.

The silent urge for Shiro to press the damn button should have been the hint he needed.

And as soon as the bell rang out, showing that the elevator had stopped, Lance's legs crumpled beneath him. He fell to his knees, his hand still held up as his pinkie latched onto Shiro's tighter. Sobs began to escape him. He couldn't quite remember how long he had been holding them back. He couldn't remember the last time that he had cried. Not like this. The last time had been because of his anger at Shiro. The time before that, alone in his room while Shiro was out with Lotor, for reasons that he honestly couldn't recall.

Shiro instantly dropped down to his own knees, kneeling down in front of Lance. He regarded him tenderly, making sure his touch not so much a tight, constricting hug, but a gentle press of support, his hand rubbing up and down Lance's trembling arm. His other hand of course, had still been busy. Shiro still held Lance's pinkie in his own, their fingers latched tight -- as if they'd been promising on something like the morning before.

Lance choked on his own sobs. He was sobbing, wailing. Tears spilled from his eyes and dropped to the floor between his fingers. They escaped too quickly for him to be able to wipe them away.

Guilt had been weighing down on him for weeks. Since he had first mentioned Hunk his thoughts had been plagued with memories. He avoided thinking of them as best as he could. He had had other things to worry about- keeping himself alive, somehow repaying Shiro for consistently saving his life, and then the murder of Sendak. Being here had been busy, Sure, but his thoughts had been overwhelmed with memories of Hunk. He felt the crushing weight of his own guilt, remorse, longing to talk to his best friend again. And just when he had gotten a little optimism, hopefulness, the slightest chance to speak to Hunk, he had gotten his hopes up his burden had disappeared for just a sweet moment.

Then Allura refused and they came crashing down on him, twice as heavy as before, choking him and causing him to hyperventilate. He hadn't had a panic attack in years but Allura's decision not to let him talk to Hunk again had triggered one so easily. It stung his chest, swelling up into a balloon stuffed with guilt that had finally been burst.

Regardless, he had Shiro. And Lotor would allow him to call to Hunk. He would be finally permitted another conversation with his best friend. He was clinging to that thought like it would turn back time and take away this disgusting display of emotion. Stop it before it had even happened. And at some point he had pulled closer to Shiro, trying desperately to get him nearer. He would be overwhelmed if he were embraced but it was the one thing he needed so desperately right now. He was willing to endure it if it meant soothing his nerves and calming his trembling body. Perhaps he could ask Lotor for a drink to aid him further.

Shiro, incredibly delicate, moved to Lance's side and wrapped a gentle arm around Lance's back -- not over his shoulders or around his neck... just a soft, supportive hold around Lance's quaking form. Shiro rubbed slow circles about Lance's back, up and down and back and over, telling him quietly how to breathe. "In and out," he murmured in a tone so soft it barely carried over Lance's own crying. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. Like me. In and out..."

He was having a panic attack. Shiro recognized his breathing and his trembling with a bitter familiarity, a soft flowering of pain in his heart at the sight of Lance in such a state of misery and anxiousness. He knew not to push him and he knew not to overwhelm him -- so Shiro simply sat there beside him, his hand moving in those slow circles in an effort to iron out the gasping of his lungs, soft words of comfort easing from his frowning lips. Their pinkies were still hooked together, the gesture too important to release.

After a few long minutes, the elevator cried out again like it had done before... almost as if it had been impatient -- the red button flashing from the control panel. Both of them flinched. Shiro looked up, and narrowed his eyes at the thing, scowling. He gave the elevator and its shrill noise of waiting before turning back to Lance, his hand stopping on his back.

"Are you okay to keep riding up, Lance?" Shiro asked. He spoke clearly. Not too loud... but not soft enough to let Lance block him out. "It's no rush but we might be holding the elevator up. We could go sit on Lotor's couch for a bit when we get up there. I'm sure that's comfier than the floor."

Eyes flickering to Shiro for a moment, Lance gave a timid nod. His breathing was a little more even now, though still erratic and uneven, and Shiro's delicate soothing had been much more helpful than he could comprehend right now. Instead, he just focused on Shiro and his softly spoken words, anticipating that unpleasant noise that the elevator spat out at them for having the nerve to stop it or start it. He covered his ears with both hands to desperately save himself from the vile noise.

He wanted to get somewhere that he could cry without being so inconvenient. Whether that was in Lotor's room or his own. He couldn't bear the idea of Lotor, someone he openly disliked, seeing him so fragile but anything was better than bottling this up again to experience a similar overwhelming sensation in only a couple of days time.

Shiro nodded, gave Lance's back another gentle rub, and then stood. He held onto Lance's pinkie a good moment, and then let the hold slip away, moving over to the control panel, and tapped the button. The elevator gave another shrill sort of shriek, before the entire thing jolted -- a sharp scraping of gears and metals as the machine shuddered about in its tracks. The lift straightened itself out, and began to rise again, grumbling as it went. Shiro moved over to Lance and offered his tender hand.

"C'mon, love," Shiro said softly. "Let me help you stand. We'll head into Lotor's room, take a breather for a bit. Explain everything to him. Then we'll head out and call Hunk. I promise."

Lance nodded, took Shiro's hand, and let himself be led out of the elevator despite how little he wanted to move and how his legs felt like jelly.


	35. Phone Call

Lance had been safely escorted to Lotor's room. He had been left on the couch with a hot chocolate that Lotor had made for him while Shiro explained the situation.Of course, Shiro had already explained that the call was important and Botor had already agreed, however Lance had wanted Lotor to be aware of how important this was to him, after so long. Lotor brought the same amount of money he had done for Shiro (despite how Shiro barely used his money) and handed it to Lance wordlessly, cautious to make sure that there wasn't even a brush of accidental physical contact, as to avoid overwhelming Lance further while he was only just beginning to calm down.

It took almost half an hour for Lance to be ready to leave. Wearing a borrowed coat that Lotor had generously lended him, they went to the ground floor and, upon seeing Allura stood by the doors with Romelle- likely keeping watch for them- Lotor brought them to an emergency exit and let them leave that way. The was a payphone about two hours down the road from here, so it was going to be a long walk. Lance was deathly silent still, as they walked, even while he was going to do something he had so clearly been looking forward to.

Anxiousness was beginning to set in, polluting his brain with endless worried about how Hunk would react, whether or not he'd be angry, upset, hurt. And the worst thought of all- if he didn't even pick up.

Shiro walked close to Lance as the moved through the city, his brow furrowed under his slipping glasses as he tried to remember all of Lotor's directions clearly and perfectly. Of course Lotor gave them the occasional reminder on which turn to take and when to take it, but Shiro wanted to lead on his own. Despite their long journey, the two walked slowly together. Each was fitted with a warm coat, Shiro's being his leather jacket he was able to snag on the way down to the lobby, so the cold didn't bother them too much. Of course it reddened Shiro's nose and the tips of his ears, to the point of numbness about an hour thirty in, but the holding of their hands and the determination set in both of their minds made it easy to forget the chill of upcoming winter.

Finally, two hours had dragged by. Of course, they had seen many rows of payphones on their long journey, but Lotor had mentioned to them that there were only two payphones he trusted -- ones enclosed with that glass case of sacred privacy -- so they overlooked each payphone station in search for that special other one. Why they hadn't just gone to the one at the bar... Shiro didn't know. Maybe Allura was keeping an eye on it or something. All Shiro knew was that his heels ached from walking so much in in boots -- the edges of his feet throbbed as well. He didn't show it though, holding back a grimace of pain with a pushing up of his glasses whenever the heat would flare up enough. There was still a long walk... and Lance wasn't showing any sorts of signs of slowing.

By the time they had arrived where they were directed to go, Shiro was tired and thirsty and most of all cold... but he didn't let all of stop him from perking up and dragging his keen gaze across the street Lotor told them the payphone would be located. There their salvation stood -- identical to the one at the bar. A black skeleton frame with fold, fogged up glass, fuzzy with age. Shiro nudged Lance a little, and pointed over to the payphone, a soft grin on his face.

"Right over there, Lance," he said in a grateful sigh. Shiro began walking up to the direction he pointed -- looking both ways before jaywalking across the rather empty street. He tapped the large figure with his free hand, and smiled. "This is the one. It's empty too..." He reached his hand down to pull the door open, the rusted hinges shrieking as it went. Shiro peered inside, and smiled a little.

He turned his gaze back to Lance, shoved his hand in his pocket, and brought out a handful of loose change. It was all of the coins he had found scattered free across the street on their way there -- Shiro had an eye for street change, and he found it especially useful that outing, making an effort to collect each quarter he'd spot. He dumped it all into Lance's hands, and gave a soft smile.

"Take all the time you need, Lance," he said softly. "That should cover you for about an hour and a half... but I'm not that good at math so... " Shiro offered a soft shrug. "I... I'll be out here keeping watch with Lotor. If you need me, knock on the door." He leaned towards Lance, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. Shiro lowered his voice to a whisper. "I love you. I... I can't say I know how he's going to react about all of this Lance but... just remember you love him. And he loves you. And I love you. Nothing can change any of that, okay?"

Lance was quiet for a couple of moments. He wrapped his arms around Shiro in a tight hug, clinging to him like his life depended on it for the few seconds he lingered. When he pulled back, Lotor was stood beside Shiro. He explained that he would be stood one side of the phone booth and Shiro would be leaning against the door, just for security, so Lance had nothing to worry about. Impulsively, Lance had wrapped both arms around Lotor, too, to show his gratitude before breaking away from him.

Finally, he entered the phone booth. He slid in some of the quarters and dialled in Hunk's number, his fingertips trembling more and more with each button he pressed. Soon, though, the soft tones were ringing in his ear to signal that the call was going through. His stomach was in knots, nervousness beginning to eat at him as he struggled to keep his thoughts and that vexing, dull tone. Seconds passed. Anxiousness was growing. Worry, fear, god knows what was taking Hunk so long to pick up.

What if Allura had told him not to answer calls today? Made something up about work and told him not to answer calls? What if he was busy today? What if his phone had died? What if-

Click.

"Hey, Hunk speaking," came the familiar voice. Lance almost lost his voice, eyes wide, as if he hadn't truly believed that Hunk would have answered. What was he supposed to say? This was hardly a casual call, he couldn't exactly match Hunk's initial tone.

"Hey, buddy," he managed to say, his throat dry. "I-I'm sorry it's taken me so long to contact you. I- God, I'm sorry."

"Lance?! What happened to you? Where are you? You just disappeared- what happened?" His voice was frantic, full of worry. "I'm so glad you're alive. You've been missing for weeks- S-Some people started to assume you weren't ever going to resurface."  
"Hunk, I- I can't. It all... all started when I went on that bust. I ended up charging into a room with, god, I think four people inside? And I hadn't waited for backup so I was just stood there with my gun, watching their cocaine deal. And- One pointed a gun at me and said he was going to shoot... and I was terrified. I couldn't move. You'd never guess what happened- Takashi Shirogane. He was there, and with everything I had heard I thought I'd die there and then but he stopped them killing me. Then... we kept bumping into each other now that I knew his face." He let out a dry laugh.

"You know he goes to Starbucks, right? W-We met one time, at a starbucks, the day after the bust. I was trying to take a break after being scared shitless and- and there he fucking was! And he threatened me or some shit before leaving. And we bump into each other again the following day because Blue ran into him and... then..." he realised that there wasn't really anything funny about the story he was going to tell about Shiro being paid to kill him, but... he needed to get this off of his chest. He needed to talk about this.

He took a few moments to speak again. Hunk was quiet, listening intently to every word. "Look," Lance began as he twirled the phone cable around his fingers. "You can't tell anyone about this call. At all. It'll put my life and Shiro's at risk but he saved my life by moving me here. He hid me at his place because he couldn't kill me. When someone found out, we killed him. Sendak. He should be on the wall somewhere if I remember correctly. But- the point is that we're away from there, we're safe, and that's that. I just needed to talk to you again. And not just to tell you that we're safe. I miss you a lot, Hunk."

A few moments of painful silence before any kind of a response was given. "Lance, I... this something big to keep quiet about," he murmured. "Seriously! I could get in shit if someone finds out!"

"They won't Hunk, please, trust me on that. I've taken every precaution and we have had help to keep off the radar. Can you tell me about stuff at the precinct? Can we just talk like we used to?"

Listening to Hunk sigh through the phone as he mulled it over was agonising. Lance hated the tension. They never had such conversations. Eventually, though, Hunk did start talking about a story, something that had occured a couple of days ago, telling Lance about amusing little things that had happened (like the time he'd seen Pidge fall asleep, stood up, leant against the wall after staying up all night), and stories about him and Shay (newly engaged! Lance had listened to each detail of Hunk's proposal). Lance returned stories. He spoke of himself and Shiro, of Lotor, but he left Allura out of it. He told Hunk about everything, leaving out any incriminating details or any information that would put himself or Shiro at risk.

Lance spoke until every single quarter was used up. Each penny he had been given had been inserted into the machine and he was running out of time. He and Hunk had said their goodbyes. They exchanged 'I love you's' with each other. And, eventually, the phone clicked off. Almost one hour and forty-five minutes, had they been talking. Lotor and Shiro had been in conversation outside of the booth for a while now, not talking about anything in particular, just trying to amuse themselves while Lance had been absorbed in his conversation.

When he left the booth, he wrapped his arms tightly around Lotor and muttered his thanks before moving to cling to Shiro. The weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was overwhelmingly relieving to have Hunk know that he was alive and well, and to have told him just about everything. Of course, he had spent a long time explaining to Hunk that he and Shiro were in a healthy relationship. For some reason, Hunk didn't trust the idea of his best friend dating an ex-mafia fugitive who had murdered countless people.

"Okay," he said with a small smile. "I'm- I'm ready to head back. Thank you both."

Shiro pulled him in close, feeling his system go warm at the sweet sounding relief in Lance's tone. "It's no problem, baby," he answered quietly, leaning down a little to kiss Lance's temple. After a nod from Lotor, the three began walking their long way back, the atmosphere about them much lighter — much easier. Shiro offered a smile down at Lance, his hand about Lance's waist as they walked.

"How was it?" he asked softly. "Did you guys catch up? You spoke for a while. I'm sure it was nice..."

"It was!" he said happily. "He told me that he's now engaged to Shay," he said warmly as he leant up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'm happy for him. I might ask Allura if she can send me pictures of the ceremony, whenever it is. I wish I could be there- he said he'd wanted me to be his best man." Lotor kept his eyes on the two of them before moving to walk a few paces ahead- giving them a little privacy to discuss the call as they pleased.

"Would you ever consider getting married?" Lance asked absently. "I've honestly always wanted a huge wedding."

Shiro didn't mean to stop short in his tracks... but he did. He tried to keep it from seeming like such a big deal, shaking his head a little with a huff of laughter as though he simply tripped over himself or something like that. He turned his eyes down to the ground, and continued walking, arm still wrapped about Lance's waist. He worked his way through his words carefully.

"Maybe. I used to," he said slowly, shrugging. "I never wanted a big wedding... even when I was a kid. The whole 'beautiful bride dressed in white walking down the aisle' thing turned me off from it because you know. I'm gay and stuff..." Shiro paused, trailing off with his empty little joke, wondering if he should have gone on.

His eyes met a pigeon bobbing around beside them, walking quickly across the pavement. Shiro watched it for a moment to distract himself, and swallowed hard. "I was gonna marry Adam," he said softly. "Lowkey wedding and all but... we still got rings. I was excited so... I guess I'd be interested in marriage. But I don't know. A lot has changed since then."

Lance had fallen quiet. He nodded, holding a little tighter to Shiro's hand as he continued walking. He hadn't expected such a response, so he didn't want to... he didn't want to make anything worse for Shiro. He kept walking, wanting to get back to their hotel so he could get something to eat. After losing his appetite for breakfast, hunger was beginning to gnaw away at his insides. He was going to order room service and hopefully he could watch something with Shiro. Ideally a disney film again.

"So," Shiro started the conversation back up with a much brighter tone, disliking the silence he had plunged them all into. "Does Hunk like me? Based on everything you him, does he think I'm cool?"

"When I assured him that you were very sweet and not the murderer everyone thinks you are, he did say you seemed nice. I wish you could have met him sometime- I'm sure he'd think you're as cool as I do."

The pigeon had hopped it's way into the street, and then fluttered off at the passing of an old, spluttering car with chipping paint and black exhaust. Shiro watched the bird fly off, and then watched the car drive off. The topic of marriage still buzzed rather uncomfortably in his system, the thought of Adam and Adam's ring making his stomach ache a bit. He ignored it though, walking with Lance — holding his hand just as tight. He stepped even closer to Lance, and shoved their holding hands into his own jacket pocket, warming them from the chilled air. He nodded along to Lance's answer, smelling the mouthwatering aroma of hotdogs from a nearby food truck stand, feeling the pain in his overworked feed.

Oh, as soon as they'd get back to the hotel Shiro would sprawl himself about the bed, and order all the food he could. How wonderful the idea seemed in that moment.

Lotor had soon gotten them to the hotel once more, saying goodbye to them and leaving them alone. Lance called goodbye to him before dragging him into their bedroom. He pressed their floor number and almost immediately had both arms around his neck. He dragged Shiro down, pulling him in for a desperate kiss without hesitating. The door closed as he held him as close as he could, pressed as close as he could.

"We haven't kissed like this in days," he murmured against his lips, kissing him again. He was desperate for him, aching and yearning for closeness. He slid his tongue into Shiro's mouth. He was not only incredibly excited, eager, but touch-starved. And a little horny.

He didn't even care about how the balls of his feet ached from walking for hours. He didn't care about how his throat was a little dry from talking so much. He didn't care that Allura was going to kill him if she ever found out. He just wanted Shiro right now. Sex or affection, he didn't care.

At first, Shiro's eyes widened a little at Lance's sudden eagerness, but he easily let himself sink into Lance's affection, melting into Lance's kisses as the elevator moved its steady way upwards. It took Shiro a few moments to answer after Lance spoke, their kisses too desperate and needed to simply separate with words.

A soft "Yeah," was all he could get out, of course, before the elevator jerked and opened up at their floor. Shiro lead Lance out into the hall, the both of them floundering a bit blindly as they kissed and clung to one another. Shiro let himself stumble backwards into their door, and then let Lance pin him against it in a passionate kiss. He brought one hand to Lance's waist, and brought the other to hold the back of Lance's head, toying with his hair. Whenever they would break for air, Shiro would try to get a few breathless words out, stringing together small, intermittent sentences.

"Jesus Christ-" A pause for a kiss. "I've fucking missed-" Another pause. "This-" A long, long pause this time. "So much..."

Pressing their lips together impatiently, Lance ran his fingers through and tugged at Shiro's hair. He broke away shortly, though, panting a little, needing to take a short breather for only a few moments. "I've missed your lips," he murmured as he leant up, brushing his lips against Shiro's. "I love you. So fucking much, Shiro." He ran his fingers through Shiro's hair, playing with the buzz of his undercut, bringing him in for yet another impatient kiss. It developed into a makeout session after only a few moment, the heated kiss being impatient and hungry, needy, a little messier than intended but god knows that neither of them cared. Though it likely made it a little awkward for the couple who had been waiting for the elevator on their floor.

Escaping to their room, blushy and giddy like schoolchildren, Lance soon had the door open and had Shiro against the wall to kiss him again, the door swinging shut behind them.

Their kissing was cut short, though, (and luckily before it progressed as Lance had just begun to pull at Shiro's shirt) by Allura clearing her throat. She was stood in the doorway to the living room, leant against the doorframe with her arms folded over her chest. "So," she said sternly. "You didn't listen to me."

Lance broke away from Shiro, but only to fix her with a glare. Shiro felt his face go red at Allura's voice— and then go a drained sort of pale at the angry glint of her eyes. He flicked his gaze down to his feet, knowing why she was there. Knowing why she looked at him like that.

"We're having a moment," Lance muttered sharply. "And you shouldn't be in our room. You could have stopped us outside of the elevator or at the door, but-"  
"But I didn't. You asked me not to go in your room without permission and I didn't listen because you didn't listen when I told you not to call Hunk."

A few tense moments passed while Lance thought through his words.

"I wanted to let my friend know I was alive. I didn't even involve you! Just get out! I don't want to talk about this right now! I want to have loud and rough sex with my boyfriend because I haven't kissed him for days because I've been sick, thank you."

Shiro, in a wise choice, stayed silent, flicking his gaze from Lance to Allura and then back to Lance again. He was still leaning against the wall, thought he was no longer pinned there by Lance's tender hands and his heated kiss. Rather, Shiro had been forced back against that wall from the look Allura administered alone. The feeling of her rage about the room left him feeling trapped. Shiro swallowed hard, watching helplessly as the spurring argument progressed. His hand had been on Lance's, which still held itself against Shiro's hip. He curled his fingers between Lance's own, holding him there, squeezing in a soft reassurance to keep Lance from getting too angry.

He didn't think yelling would do anyone any good...

The reassurance did Lance a world of good.

"Message received, Allura. Sorry that I was stupid, behaved poorly, and dared to care about my friend, who cared about me. I won't ever do it again. Please, leave the apartment. You've killed the mood enough."

Shiro suppressed a cringe at Lance's brash apology. He pushed off the wall a little, trying to recover from his embarrassed cowering. "Really Allura. We're sorry. We just... Lance really had to talk to him again..." His tone was weak. His argument was even weaker. Shiro held back the urge to grimace again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. She had to understand, right? She had to get it...

She watched for a few seconds, gritting her teeth as she glared at them both.

"What, so a half-assed apology is all I get? I'm risking a hell of a lot to keep you both safe and-"  
"And what? God forbid that you protect your friend! God forbid that you use your excessive, mafia-earned money to stop your friend and his boyfriend from being hunted down and killed by your rival mafia! I asked for one thing- a phone call to reassure a close friend that I was okay. To tell Hunk that I was alive, to let him know why I went missing, to tell him I'm safe now! It's not like I asked to talk to each and every member of my family, the precinct, and those I had been friends with! I didn't ask you to bring anyone here! I didn't ask you to do anything other than escort me somewhere and lend me enough money for a call!"

The words hung heavy in the air before Lance opened the door and gestured outside. "Either get the fuck out, or Shiro and I will go somewhere else. And don't worry- if it'll be more convenient for you, we'll feel free to walk out of your territory to get ourselves killed. Saving you money and the stress of keeping two people alive." Grabbing her jacket, Allura began to the door. She grabbed Lance by the collar and pulled him close, glaring into his eyes.

"Yeah," she hissed. "Feel free."

Moving back, she stormed out and slammed the door behind her. Lance was gripping so tightly to Shiro's hand that his knuckles were white.

"Lance..." Shiro started slowly, his one word quiet and nervous. He leaned off the wall some more, stepping a bit closer to him. He could basically feel the heat of rage burning from Lance's skin — festering about in the atmosphere around them. Shiro swallowed hard again, and bit at his cheek. "I... that was a lot... Are you alright? Shit..."

He brought up Lance's hand, the one he had been holding, and brought it up to his lips to kiss. When he did, he nodded over to the sofa, his voice still low and gentle as if he was afraid of getting Lance angry again. "Let's go sit down on the couch and... and calm down a little. Okay?"

Cupping Shiro's cheeks, Lance leant in and brought their lips together after only a moment.

"No, no, I'm not angry. A little tense, but not angry. Come on, I want to cuddle. And I'm sure that we can find a disney movie to watch," he said, pulling Shiro to the bedroom so that he could pile as many blankets as possible into his awaiting arms. And then a few pillows. And then the menu for room service. "We still have all of our room service money," he said as he squeezed his hand. "So let's have a feast." He went back to the living room, snatching up the remote and turning the television on. "Get the sofa set up for cuddles," he ordered, smiling a little. "I'll choose a film."

He was still clearly tense, irate, and the anger from Allura's rudeness was only beginning to ebb from his system. Ideally, cuddling Shiro and watching some sappy love story would help him relax. Cuddling Shiro always helped him relax.

Shiro smiled at him, and went over to the coffee table, snatching up the phone and a spare menu before settling himself into the sofa. Shiro pulled one of the blankets up onto himself, and then opened up one of his arms and laid it upon the backrest, making a perfect spot for Lance to curl up in. He ran his eyes across the menu, searching for something filling but... something cheap too. Lance had gone a bit far in that argument. Shiro wouldn't say anything, of course, but there was still that nagging guilt in his system for all that stuff Lance had said. Allura had been rude but that... that didn't mean Lance hadn't been rude either.

Lance's threat of leaving still hung heavy in Shiro's mind.

He didn't like that at all.

Shiro looked up to Lance, and nodded down to the space he had created. "C'mon, loverboy. Lay down next to me and tell me what you want so I can order," he said with a soft smile, his tone kind and calm despite his inner turmoil.

"I want a lot of alcohol," he said first, settling down with Shiro, pulling his boyfriend down beside him. He got comfy, snuggled up, their legs tangling up as he shifted around where he lay. "How about... we can share the salad, I think that the 80z steak sounds good, and some brownies for dessert. What do you want?"

"That sounds all good. I'll just have..." Shiro scanned the menu for a moment, his eyes grooming through the prices. Shiro tapped a finger on a cheaper dish of pasta. "Just one of those. Maybe a few bites out of your steak too. That's all I need, really."

He leaned back a little, counting up all the prices in his head. They just nearly passed seventy bucks --and that was only adding the two bottles of wine Shiro hoped they could get, and not all that alcohol Lance made it seem like they were going to drink. Shiro, frowning a little, set the menu down. He turned to Lance, and offered a small smile.

"So I figured we could just get a bottle of wine. Maybe two. Not a whole bunch of alcohol, just enough," Shiro said softly, shrugging a little. He didn't wait for Lance's answer, and instead began dialing in the number, pressing buttons as he spoke. "We don't wanna have a hangover on the plane ride tomorrow, right? I feel like that would mess us up pretty bad... considering flying is already giving me the heebie-jeebies, you know?" He flicked his eyes back up to Lance, thumb hovering over the call button. "Sound good to you, baby?"   
"What, you don't like flying?" Lance asked teasingly, beginning to play with Shiro's shirt. "But yeah, whatever you say. Two bottles of wine sounds fine." He let his head rest on Shiro's chest, closing his eyes, content with his arms wrapped around his boyfriend. "And I'll go get the food this time because you've done it every other time."

He brought the blanket up a little more and clicked on Moana, smiling warmly up at Shiro. He waited for him to finish ordering before he would start playing the film.

"Being stuck in a giant metal tube as it shoots through the sky for six hours isn't my idea of a party," Shiro confessed weekly, shrugging. He pressed call, and brought the phone to his face. "I flown a few times before. Never liked any of them."

The kitchen picked up, and Shiro ordered, asking for a few bottles of water as well before he hung up. Shiro set the phone down on the table, and gave a soft sigh, curling his arm up around Lance a little more. He hugged him close, pressing soft a gentle kiss to Lance's head. Shiro looked at him instead of the television which had just started to play the triumphant fanfare of a Disney movie opener, a dazed look in his eyes.

"I can't believe I'm leaving New York. Forever, this time," he said, shaking his head. "I'm excited but... I'm also kinda sad. This place has been my home. The streets have been my home. The sounds of the city that never sleeps helps me sleep... it... it'll be so weird to just... not have it anymore, you know?" Shiro gave a sigh, looking off to the side. "Have you lived here all your life? I've been here since five years old. I think five years old."

"Yeah, all my life," he said as he let his head rest on Shiro's chest. "I've always wanted to move, though. As much as I love this place, I wanted to settle down at some point. I couldn't imagine being a cop for that long and I wouldn't stay in New York after retiring."

Smiling, Lance held Shiro's prosthetic hand. He spent time curling and uncurling his fingers, listening out for a dull mechanical whirr that never came. His eyes fixed on the screen as he watched the film- though his attention was fixed on Shiro. "In our bedroom, we have to have a hundred blankets. Blankets, cushions, pillows, and we'll have a TV, and it'll just be our cosy. We could have a desk in there for work, if we wanted to, we could have anything. We could just have three rooms. A bathroom, a kitchen, and our cosy. Just for us to laze around in, cuddle, whatever else. Doesn't it sound perfect?"

Shiro gave a long hum, nodding his head. He snuggled himself further into the couch cushions, moving closer up to Lance as he made himself comfortable. "Sounds wonderful," he murmured wistfully. "Huge bathroom with a huge tub. Downstairs we could even try to get like a fireplace or something that we could chill out by whenever we're closed or something." Shiro thought about that for a second, envisioning powerful warmth pouring past a beautifully engraved fireplace from a crackling flame. The idea made a brighter, happier smile curl up the sides of Shiro's cheeks. "Mm... I've always wanted a fireplace..."

"Definitely. A log fireplace, with a plush rug by it where we can cuddle up with hot chocolates or coffee while we cuddle each other." He leant up and pressed his lips to his jaw. "We need to have everything perfect in our room. Fairy lights, too! We have to have fairy lights. All over the walls, by the bed, by the fireplace." He kissed along to his neck. "And we need a mini-fridge by the bed so we can have alcohol- or water- whenever we want."

Shiro have a soft laugh. "Sounds good to me," he said softly, nodding. Shiro turned his head to the side, opening up his neck for more kisses. Lance eagerly supplied them.

"So, you're the bookstore keeper, or whatever," he started in a soft giggle, Lance's lips brushing over a sensitive spot. "What am I gonna do? Selling books probably isn't my strong suit... and you made me promise to give up my actual strong suit. What do you think 'working-man Shiro's'- oh I mean Kuron. What's Kuron gonna do with his life, huh?"

"I think Kuron is going to dedicate every second to his handsome partner, Pike. I think that he can help by the counter and play nice music from a record player. I think that he'll have a section empty in the shop so that when there aren't any customers, Kuron and Pike can dance to the music to occupy themselves. What do you think?" He pressed a gentle kiss to a hickey before moving back, looking into Shiro's eyes. He smiled warmly and leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's for just a moment. It felt perfect to be in his arms.

Shiro smiled against Lance' lips. "I think Kuron likes the sound of that," he said quietly, kissing Lance back a few times. When he pulled back, Shiro offered a gentle blush, and rose his shoulders a little. "Even if Kuron can't dance. Neither can Shiro. We both suck at it."

"Perhaps Pike could teach him. Or Shiro. Either way, I'm sure that he'll be able to dance with such a wonderful partner."

There was a knock at the door — which was to Shiro's great thanks due to the teasing smirk Lance had just begun to show. At the sound, Shiro gave his own grin, and nodded towards the sound. "Better go get that, Prince Charming," he said slickly, pressing one final kiss to his lips. "You said it was your turn."

Lance let out a dramatic whine as he hauled himself from under the warm covers. He began to the door, making sure that Shiro knew that his 'legs hurt' or that he was 'exhausted' or that it was 'really cold'- just to rub it in that he didn't want to get out of bed. Finally, he returned, bringing through the plates and drinks that they had ordered, setting them down on the coffee table by the couch. Then, finally, he was able to sink back into his boyfriend's loving embrace.

Shiro hugged him in thanks, and then pushed him off for a second to make a grab for the food. His stomach grumbled and his mouth watered as he lifted the cover from the plates, nose met with the tasty aromas of steak and pasta and marinara. Shiro picked up his pasta in one hand and grabbed Lance's steak in the other, settling back into the couch. He set Lance's plate on Lance's lap, and settled his own on his thigh. Shiro got to work on it instantly, giving a soft sigh as the taste spread about his tongue. Twice he thought about stealing a bit of Lance's steak... but he figured against it. They still had a salad and desserts... both of which making his stomach even more eager.

Shiro turned to Lance, his mouth full of pasta. "How is it? Good?" he asked, voice slurred.

"Really good," Lance answered through a mouthful, offering Shiro a forkful of his steak. "Want some?" he smiled warmly at Shiro, running his fingers along his torso and leaning against his chest while he waited for him to take the food from his fork. Shiro did, thankful for the bit of steak. He giggled a little, finding it rather ridiculous to be forkfed. He... didn't quite mind it thought. It was sweet.

"I love you, Shiro," Lance mumbled absently. Some song was blaring in the background from Moana, but Lance's focus was fixed solely on his boyfriend. He was gorgeous. How could someone look so handsome while doing nothing but eating pasta under shitty hotel lighting?

Lance's eyes were sparkling. It was as if he were falling for Shiro all over again. Studying each of his handsome features. He wanted to draw him again. He couldn't recall the last time he'd drawn anything, having been so distracted recently.

Lance McClain-Shirogane?

The thought seemed to come from nowhere. Would that be his name? No, it- it would be Pike-whatever-whatever or some shit.

"If we got married," he started out of nowhere, interrupting a sentence that he'd been paying no attention to. "Would we share names? Would it be McClain-Shirogane? Would it be Shirogane-McClain? Or would I just have your name? Or- Or would you have mine?" he asked, his head resting on Shiro's chest as he stared at the screen. He wasn't even paying attention to the film. He didn't know why he'd even put it on. They never paid any attention to the films they put on. "And how about our fake names? What would we do for that?"

Shiro, who had been just about to say his own 'I love you too', fell silent, losing his voice. A soft thrum of shock rushed through him at the question and the topic, but he didn't let it phase him too much... he felt like his stuttering or stumbling would have offended Lance in some way. "I... I guess we could combine names... if we got married..." he said, nodding his head a little. "I guess I would want your last name but... I can't give up mine. Then there'd be no reason to call me 'Shiro', you know?"

Shiro turned away from Lance, thinking about it. Takashi McClain-Shirogane? Or would it be Takashi Shirogane-McClain? Shiro liked the first one a little better. He felt like it would roll better off his tongue... he almost wanted to test it out...

"Takashi Shirogane-McClain," Shiro murmured in a dazed sort of tone. "Shirogane-McClain. McClain-Shirogane... Takashi McClain?" He paused to give a stupid little giggle. "Okay, um... Lance Shirogane? Hm... I don't hate the sound of that..."

He paused for a few moments, realizing what he had just said. "Not that I'm... not that I'm saying we are getting married, you, uh, you know? Ha... it's... it's way too soon to tell. Way way too soon. Marriage is a lot. Too much for right now, anyways. Too much for me... so soon..."

God, that was stupid of him to say. Shiro suppressed a soft cringe, hoping that Lance wouldn't take any of that personally. Hoping that he wouldn't get hurt...

Lance watched him for a few moments, managing to maintain his slightly faltering smile though his amusement wasn't shining in his eyes anymore.

"Y-Yeah, I mean... I mean, it's too soon, yeah. Definitely. Too much, yeah." He sank a little further under the blankets. He hadn't meant to say anything that would upset Shiro, or to imply that they would be obligated to get married or... or whatever else.

He just hadn't exactly had a relationship like this. Not one where he was as comfortable with his partner as his partner was with him. It was healthy and developing and he genuinely enjoyed every second he spent with Shiro. He was probably just getting a little too excited. More than he should have.

He disappeared a little more under the many blankets he had. His arms had taken hold of a pillow to cuddle for comfort.

"Yeah," he mumbled absently. "Yeah, sorry. Let's- let's just focus on the film. I'll not bring it up again."

"It's alright," Shiro murmured gently, hugging Lance a bit tighter out of reassurance. "I'm sorry for being so touchy about it... four years and I'm still weird about it all."

He went quiet, just hugging on Lance with his one arm, head turned to the television, eyes dully watching the film. Shiro gave a soft sigh, shrugging his shoulders a little. "It's whatever though," he hummed, trying to lift the mood back up a bit. He ate the last bit of his pasta, and set the bowl somewhere on the floor. Shiro nodded to the television, a soft grin on his face. "Another Disney movie I've never seen before. I feel like I told you I never watched much Disney as a kid... but I also think it was when I was drugged up so I might have just dreamt that."

"Yeah, no, you told me," he mumbled as he moved a little closer. "I love Disney films. I've watched them all so many times," he said as he shifted a little closer. He was a little on edge, tense, because he was still worried about having upset Shiro.

He kept a tight hold on his shirt, though, and leant into the touches he was supplied. He had soon slid the plate away, beginning to pick at the salad, just absently snacking on it while he watched the film. The atmosphere felt tense and he really didn't like it. It made him uncomfortable- but how else should he feel? He had brought up a touchy topic and now he was simply dealing with the aftermath of his mistake. No matter how it made him feel bad enough for his stomach to churn.

The most uncomfortable part was that he couldn't think of anything else to say to resurrect the situation. Silence hung heavy between them. Even with the film supplying its own background audio, Lance still wasn't comfortable with the quiet in the room.

Shiro recognized that silence with his own bitter distaste -- though he felt as if it had been his fault instead of Lance's, making it a rather uncomfortable situation for the both of them. There were a few times where Shiro thought of something to say -- something to help shift the atmosphere -- but he figured it would end in the same awkward answer as his last statement had. Shiro just held Lance close, running his hand up and down his arm -- tickling him with his blunted nails.

He closed his eyes after awhile, his head bobbing and swaying a little on his neck as if it had been weighted in some way. Shiro didn't really want to fall asleep with the atmosphere hanging as heavy as it had been but... he couldn't quite help himself. The walk had worn him down. Allura's yelling had worn him down. Lance's body was so warm against him. The music of the movie created a lullaby of white noise. Shiro let himself doze off and snap back to attention about three or four times before he finally said something, his voice tired and quiet.

"I think... I'm gonna nap..." he murmured, leaning his head back onto the backrest of the couch. "Just for a little bit... don't let me sleep for too long... I still wanna go out with Lotor sometime. To the cafe..."

"We have time," Lance mumbled, shifting up and resting his head on Shiro's shoulder, closing his eyes. "I think we've both earned it. Sleep. I'm going to have a nap too. We don't have our plane until after midday, so you can go to the cafe with him in the morning if we sleep too long."

He spent a moment or so getting comfy, soon squirming out of his shirt and bringing the blanket up to his neck so that he could curl up and, eventually, he would be able to fall asleep. Right now, all that he wanted to do was get some rest, bundled up under all the blankets they had, cuddling his boyfriend. So that was what he was going to do.

"I love you," Lance made sure to remind Shiro as he settled down, feeling sleep beginning to claim him. His tiredness had only just begun to set in when he'd been lying down. Now that he'd begun to submit, his eyelids were feeling heavy. He didn't want to move. He'd gotten comfy where he was and he wasn't going to leave this place until he woke up. "I really love you..."

"I love you too," Shiro said softly, his tone nothing but a tired murmur, his words half sentient as they slipped through his lips. "To the moon and back..."

Huh. Haven't said that in a while.

The thought of his old ways didn't make him feel guilty. It didn't make him think of Adam's unfair end. It didn't make his heart hurt or his chest ache. Instead it... well it made him feel good. Made him feel nice. Rather than burning, his chest almost seemed to feel as if though flowers had begun to grow and prosper, a lush, floriferous sweetness taking ahold of him as he fell back into the furthest reaches of sleep. Was it his sleepiness that made him so giddy? Or.. or was it something else.

Flower growth... growth... acceptance...

To the moon and back.

He might have said it only in his mind. He might have said it aloud again. Whatever it was he had done, it didn't matter.

What mattered was how good it felt to fall asleep beside the man he loved to the moon and back.


	36. Cafe Date

"Hey, wake up," came a voice from beside Shiro. His shoulder was gently being shaken to try to disturb him, to wake him up. The heavy weight of his sleeping boyfriend was still on his chest, so it wasn't Lance trying to ruin his sleep. Instead, it was Lotor, who had evidently used the spare key at the desk to enter their room so that he could wake Shiro up.

"Shiro," his voice came again, finally getting through to the sleeping male. The reason for his intrusion was simple- it was around eight in the morning and they still needed to pack, ideally they could go out to a cafe, and then they would have to drive for a couple hours to get to the airport. His reason for disturbing them was simple- he wanted to spend time with Shiro and give a proper goodbye before they left. Had Lance and Shiro slept in much longer, there just wouldn't have been enough time for it all. "It's eight in the morning. I'm here to help you pack, get your bags to the car and take you out to the cafe we visited yesterday."

Shiro gave a soft groan, squeezing his eyes closed a little tighter and turning his head off to the side. "Five more minutes... Lotor..." he said in a quiet, rumbly slur, a warm, tired breath escaping him in a long sigh. He laid there for a few seconds, mind taking a moment to process, and then his eyes snapped open. Shiro pushed up from his spot on the bed, fluttering his dazed eyes, and sure enough there Lotor stood -- looking down at him with an amused smirk on his face.

"What did I say..." Shiro started, cutting himself off with a yawn, "... about knocking?"

"I did knock. For about fifteen minutes."

Shiro reached his arms up in a stretch, and then pulled them both down to wrap himself in a sort of personal hug. The steel of his fingertips were cold against his goosebump-ridden flesh, but it still felt nice. He closed his heavy eyes again, shaking his head. "You said... you said it's eight in the morning?" he asked weakly. "Jesus. Lance and I slept for a while... again. Why do we... why do we sleep so much? Fuck if I know..." He broke off into another yawn, now rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger to try and wake them up.

Lotor brought himself to his feet and, soon, had woken up Lance too. Much to his dismay, though, as he decided that instead of getting up he would just curl up in place and attempt to fall asleep.

"You sure you want to go back to the cafe?" he asked, glancing to the floor before looking back up at Shiro. "Because I'd understand if you didn't. Packing and stuff might take a while and I don't want to overwhelm you."

He just seemed a little tense. Even after his relationship with Lance had improved, he wasn't sure about going to a cafe with him. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if Lance started being romantic with Shiro. God, he hated jealousy. He was prone to it, easy to submit to his own envy. At least he could admit to it, though, and he was good at keeping himself to himself if his emotions got too much. The only time that he hadn't been good at keeping himself in check was when Shiro had been blatantly rude and disrespectful during the meal out. Even then, it had only been because Shiro had been degrading him openly in front of Allura and Lance. While Allura had been fairly neutral with her opinion toward him, Lance hadn't had much of an opinion and was highly impressionable when it came to such slander.

He was still entirely sure that Shiro's rudeness during that date had been influential while Lance was still forming opinions of him and were a strong cause of Lance's malicious behaviour toward him.

"Oh yeah -- we have to go back," Shiro said, looking up at Lotor. "Packing won't take me too long. I'm sure Lance is okay too. We can still go."

Shiro, more awake and fitted with a soft smile, gave the tired, grumbling Lance a soft pat on the shoulder. "C'mon Lance," he said softly, nudging him. "Wake up. We have to get ready to go eat." 

 

He gave Lance a soft pat again, and then slipped out from Lance's clinging hold, giving a soft huff of laughter at the groan the action earned from the tired man on the couch. Shiro stood, stretched out his back a little, and yawned for a third and final time. He looked to Lotor, rubbing at the back of his neck. A soft blush of guilt rushed up into his cheeks, heating up his face and his neck. He offered a quaint shrug and a wan smile before speaking again, his question delicate and nervous.

 

"So did Allura get on your case, too?" he asked in a slow mumble. "She was in our room when he got back. She was fucking pissed."

"Yeah," he said with a small smile. "Came to my room after arguing with Lance. She spent most of her time talking about how rude Lance had been- I wasn't on her side for that, so I kept quiet- before she turned to scold me for being irresponsible enough to let him call his friend." His eyes stayed on Shiro, amusement shining in his eyes. "I'd understand that it was 'for Lance's good' if it wasn't utter bullshit. Luckily, all I got was a slap on the wrist before she left to complain to Romelle instead."

Shiro gave a soft snort, and shook his head, though a soft breath of relief did escape him -- his system a little more relaxed knowing Lotor hadn't been yelled at too bad for helping them again. "Did she say anything about me?" he asked, tone one of some schoolboy interested in gossip and drama. He moved over to the kitchen as he spoke, groping for a glass and setting it under the faucet. Shiro poured himself a few sips of water, and then gut back, trying to tame his case of morning breath. He leaned against the counter, watching Lotor with a curious look in his eyes. "I couldn't tell if she was mad at me or not. She looked at me like she wanted to kill so... I'm guessing we aren't really gonna leave off on good terms." Lotor laughed, smiling a little.

"Yeah, she- she'd said a lot about you. She didn't exactly use the word 'annoying', but she did insult you a lot. I would have stood up for you if it wasn't suicide to do so."

"Ah, you're fine," Shiro said in a chuckle. "I don't know if I want to know some of those insults... I'm curious but I don't want to start anything else. Shit... that whole relationship is screwed up enough as it is."

Shiro gave a soft laugh, but flicked his gaze over to Lance on the couch, a soft look of discomfort shimmering in his eyes for only half a moment. He hadn't exactly thought about that... how rotten the terms would be between Allura and Lance when they left. It made his stomach churn a little -- his heart ache a little. He remembered how fondly Lance had spoken about her back when they both lived in Shiro's apartment. How close he made them both seem. Hopefully... hopefully Shiro could get the confidence to ask Lance to talk to her. At least make up a little... just so he didn't have to leave hating her. Shiro shook his head a little, snapping out of it.

"You go wait for us in the lobby," he said to Lotor, smiling again -- his eyes back to normal. "I'll get Lance up and dressed. We'll be bout thirty minutes I guess if we both take showers..." Shiro trailed off, a smart joke popping into his head. He didn't hesitate, calling the next bit out to Lance on the sofa, even if Lotor's presence made it a bit awkward. "Maybe fifteen if we shower together, huh babe~?"

Lance, who had only barely woken up by then, was far too tired for Shiro's flirting. Upon processing Shiro's remark, his entire face flushed red and he somehow lost the ability to speak. Lotor laughed a little, bringing himself to his feet, jealousy begin to stir in his system but he ignored it.

"I'll see you in the lobby, then." And with that, he left.

Lance managed to get to his feet, approaching Shiro and beginning to pull his boyfriend close- immediately slumping against him and resting his head on Shiro's chest.

"It's too early," he mumbled bitterly. "I don't want to do anything just yet."

Shiro gave a soft hum, lifting a hand to play with Lance's hair. "Well, we are going to get caffeine, Lance. That should wake you up," he said with a laugh. Shiro brought his other hand to Lance's waist, running idle circles about the side of his bare stomach. "Really, though. We should get ready -- don't want to keep Lotor waiting too long."

Shiro moved both hands to Lance's shoulders and pulled him back a bit so he could get a good look at his face. Sleepy, squinted eyes. Messy hair. A tired furrow of the brow. Shirtless. All his lovely hickies exposed and apparent. God, he was so adorable. So hot. Shiro felt his heart beat in the swiftest little flutter, and he leaned down to kiss him. It was a sweet, tired kiss -- not too long but... not too short either. Shiro pulled back a little their foreheads still touching.

"Offer to shower together still stands because, hell, I'm going to miss sharing this bathroom with you," he said softly, pressing another little kiss to Lance's lips. He continued to speak against them, his voice just barely over a whisper. "Too bad we can't take a bath again... maybe if we do our packing really fast we can take one more together. Just for the sake of it." Lance laughed softly, stealing another quick kiss and wrapping his arms around Shiro a little more, just to be clingy.

When he finally brought himself to break away from Shiro, he nodded.

"Yeah, we can shower together," he ran his fingers through Shiro's hair. "But we don't have time to have sex unless you're really quick at getting dressed after." He held Shiro's hand, beginning to trudge through to the bathroom. He yawned and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it from his forehead. God, the amount of times he'd told himself that he needed a haircut lately and yet- he still hasn't gotten one.

"Oh really?" Shiro hummed in a purring response. "I can dress myself pretty fast, if need be... And I mean... we would already be naked in the shower, you know?"

"Oh, shut up."

Reaching the bathroom, he turned the shower on to let it heat up while he began to brush his teeth. He hoped that today wouldn't be too busy, but it wasn't likely. A whole trip to the airport and then having to get settled down in an entirely new house- one that he hadn't even seen pictures of yet? Today was going to be miserable.

Shiro moved behind him, wrapping his arms about Lance's waist in a tired hug as Lance brushed his teeth. He watched the both of them in the mirror for a second, pressing intermittent kisses to the back of Lance's neck while he waited, liking the blushing smile each one inspired from Lance's face in the mirror. The shower water drummed in the background. Steam was already beginning to collect and pour from the open shower door. Shiro watched it from the corners of his eyes -- the white vapor traveling up into the air from the hot, hot water. Impatient, he gave Lance one final kiss, and stepped back, pulling the shirt up over his head.

Shiro undressed himself down to his boxers, waiting for Lance to do the same -- he didn't really want to be the only one naked. He grabbed some fresh towels from the linen closet, turned down the heat a bit on the shower so the water wouldn't scald their skin upon impact, and then leaned up against the wall, watching Lance. Excitement tangled in his gut. They had showered together before... but this time seemed as though it would be a bit more intimate. He was curious to see where things would go.

Lance, when he had stripped down, stepped into the shower to join Shiro. The water was warm and it was nice to be so close to Shiro again, pulling him down (curse having such a tall boyfriend) for a heated kiss.

And, by the time they left the shower, Lance had left a fair amount more hickeys on Shiro. He was especially fond of the ones left along his jaw or in really obvious places, and he was glowing with pride as he dressed himself. He wore black jeans and one of Shiro's sweaters- a black one with a spaceship on it that was from another nerdy franchise Shiro didn't talk about. The sleeve was still on, but likely because Shiro was too embarrassed to wear it.

Now, he was sitting on the bed and swinging his legs back and forth as he folded up clothes to pack, waiting for Shiro to finish getting ready so that they could leave. The rest of the packing could be finished later. They had already showered for ten minutes longer than they'd planned.

Shiro had dressed himself in a similar outfit as Lance, though he chose a sweater with a rather high collar, really, not really wanting Lotor to know exactly why they were going to be a little later than planned. Shiro got dressed, stretched out his newly tired muscles a bit, and then moved over to Lance, brushing his damp hair back to he could kiss him one the forehead. Shiro had left his own collection of hickies during their shower -- though he didn't dare to leave any on his jaw, even if his system begged for revenge. There were three new ones on Lance's neck, and then another just below his right ear -- that one the most apparent and easily the darkest. It was the most he had done to bring Lance's cruel jaw hickies to justice.

"Ready to roll?" he asked sweetly, voice incredibly chipper. Incredibly satisfied. "We can bring Blue. It's a dog friendly cafe. Real cute."

"Sure." Lance whistled, and the dog trotted over with Black in her mouth. She set the cat down by Shiro's feet before dashing over to Lance. She circled him a few times, running and yapping, before sitting down impatiently while Lance clipped on her collar. "Whenever you're ready to go, we can head off. And if you want to change your shirt so that I can see all the marks I've left, I wouldn't complain." He walked over, scratched behind Black's ear before taking ahold of Shiro's hand. He was looking forward to this. Being bedridden with a fatal cold wasn't ideal, so he was happy to be able to go out again. And on a date, no less.

Shiro gave a soft laugh. "You can still see everything pretty fuckin' well, jerk," he said rolling his eyes. With his free hand he reached up and prodded the spots on his jaw. "Don't you know how long its gonna take for these to fade? Jesus."

The three of them left the apartment, Shiro and Lance standing close, Blue eagerly leading the way. They rode the elevator down to the lobby, playfully arguing back and forth about all those 'unnecessary' hickies, both of them laughing and lighthearted by the times the doors grumbled open again. Shiro spotted Lotor waiting in the cafe for them, scrolling through his phone all alone at a smaller table for two. They made their way over to him, waving at him when he looked up from whatever he'd been doing. Shiro released Lance's hand and slumped down into the chair across from Lotor, smiling as he set his foot up on the table -- leaned back in a lazed, tired slouch.

"Hey," he said with his smirking grin. "So about twenty-thirty minutes? That wasn't too bad, right? Sorry you had to wait though." Lotor looked up and met his eyes, frowning upon noticing the marks on Shiro's skin.

"I... I see that you two were a little busy." He stood, tucking his phone into his pocket. "We should go now, as to not waste too much more time." He didn't mind the waiting at all, he was just a little irritated that he'd been waiting because they couldn't control their impulses and had decided to have sex instead of coming downstairs. They were about to live together, for fucks sake, they could have waited one afternoon.

He moved past the two of them, walking over to the doors and simply expecting them both to follow close behind. He didn't even check over his shoulder, wanting to get to the cafe and get this done. He'd been looking forward to it but he hadn't expected them to be so... blatantly intimate. He took a moment getting the grimace from his lips.

Lance leant over to Shiro. "Wow," he murmured. "Something put him in a bad mood. We were only gone for like... half an hour. Any idea what pissed him off? We might have just missed Allura."

Shiro frowned, watching him leave. He reached a hand up to touch the spot on his jaw, and gave a low sigh. "I know why," he said in a guilty huff. Shiro turned his gaze to follow Lotor out through the main doors, shaking his head a little. "Just don't mention it around him." He took his foot off of the table, took Lance's hand, and then chased after him, dragging Lance along.

They caught up with Lotor outside, Shiro moving up to stand beside him. He walked next him, keeping up with his stride with Lance on his other side. He thought of something to say -- something to instantly revive the positive energy the group had possessed that morning.

"So, I'm guessing you guys aren't able to come and visit or anything?" Shiro asked, trying to sound oblivious to Lotor's coldness. "It would be cool if you could. Keep us updated on the city. Catch up a little. Maybe it would be too dangerous to visit but... we could still keep in touch somehow, right?"

"Probably not," he muttered. "I could give you my number, you could call me from a payphone to avoid being tracked- but... knowing Allura, she'd not be happy with that. And visits... I-I already told you that I can't leave here. Don't ask any more questions about it." He wrapped his arms around himself a little. He was clearly quite tense. Irritated would be an understatement.

He took a few steps forward to move ahead from Shiro, disguising it as just walking quicker and wanting to get to the cafe sooner. Lance held onto Shiro's hand, struggling to keep up with him now that Lotor had begun moving faster. He held tightly to Shiro's hand, glancing around, making sure that nobody was looking at them weirdly. He was tense being so public- especially when Lotor was being so distant. He didn't feel safe around Lotor- not like when he was with Allura.

Shiro attempted to keep up with him, but gave up after a few moments, slowing his tread and trailing behind. He walked beside Lance, holding his hand — no longer dragging him along. Lotor's bad mood was getting to him — it got beneath his skin. Shiro offered a soft scowl, glaring at Lotor's back. They had made up — they were finally at a peaceful point and they were going to leave off on a great note. But Lotor's jealousy was about to ruin it all.

He didn't regret what he did with Lance. Not for one second. He understood why Lotor would be uncomfortable... but cold? It was low to be so distant all because of some hickies. All because he wanted to be happy with Lance.

"God, I hope he's not like this all day," Shiro muttered in a grumble. "I get that he's jealous or whatever, but seriously..." Lance nodded a little, squeezing Shiro's hand and moving to walk a little closer to him.

"Yeah. It's uncomfortable." He laced his fingers together with Shiro's, biting his lip a little. He was already tense- he didn't want to spend the rest of the day like this.

Lotor soon arrived at the cafe. He held the door open for the two and muttered for them to choose wherever they wanted to sit, tucking his hands into his pockets when he followed them inside. Lance chose some seats in the corner, next to a heater to fend off the chill left from the late autumn air. Blue immediately began to rummage through the toys, sticking her nose into the box and soon clamping her jaws around the toy she'd picked up last time. She settled on the floor, beginning to chew on it while Lance flicked through the menu. The three of them were set around a circular table. The seats were set for four people. The seat opposite Shiro was empty, with Lance on his left and Lotor on his right.

"Again, have whatever you want," Lotor reminded Shiro, eyes flickering to Lance. "No price limit."

Shiro nodded a little, reaching for a menu. "Thanks," he said quietly, running his eyes through the morning coffees. He leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his back a little. He still felt a bit sore from their shower, but he didn't vocalize any of his complaints, instead just trying to massage his back muscles on the plush of the seat.

Shiro was hungry. He set the menu down, and jabbed his finger into a large, tasty looking sponge cake with strawberry frosting. "Yay or nay to sharing this guy? Splitting it between the three of us?" he asked, a soft smile on his face. "It says it's supposed to feed a party of four at least. I think we could finish it all off, huh?"

His tone was lighter. He forced it to stay that way — making sure he sounded as genuine as he did oblivious. Shiro wanted to lift the mood as much as he possibly could. If Lotor decided to toss it back down into the gutter again... well... Shiro had a slight idea of what he could do. He hoped he wouldn't have to pull Lotor aside and talk to him about it. It seemed a bit too... repetitive of him.

Shiro had spoken to Lotor about their own controversy more times than he could count on his Goddamn hands. Lance nodded, smiling. "I bet we could," he said with an air of confidence, holding Shiro's hand under the table. "I'm pretty hungry. Lotor, what do you think?"

Glancing up as if they'd only just caught his attention, Lotor's gaze flickered between the two of them. He nodded, assuming that that was the correct response. "Of course. Anything," he said with a small smile. It didn't reach his eyes. He turned his gaze back to the menu for a few moments before closing it and setting it on the table. He was going to have some tea and, apparently, an excessive amount of cake. Lance set his own menu down, planning on having a milkshake. Now it was just up to Shiro to decide before they ordered.

Shiro wanted something warm. Something to wake him up and prepare him for the long, long day ahead. "I guess I'll go with a caramel coffee, two shots of espresso," he mumbled to himself, setting the menu down on the table. He set them all up in a stack, and hailed over a waitress.

Shiro ordered their meal, putting an emphasis on the large in very large sponge cake — which made the waitress laugh. Enjoying the attention, Shiro trailed on a little bit more, making jokes as he strung together their order, leaving the waitress giggling and full of smiles when she went off. Shiro turned back to the table, still smiling. When he met the judging looks from both Lance and Lotor, he gave a scoff, and shook his head.

"What? I was being nice," he said, shaking his head a little. "Spreading around joy and all that shit. She loved it." Lance elbowed him in the side.

"No way that that was being nice! That was flirting. Flat out, blatant flirting! In front of your boyfriend, no less!"

"No it wasn't!" Shiro argued, blushing.

"Yeah, Shiro, it was," Lotor interjected. "That was past being nice. She was really into it." The two shared small looks, both amused and irritated due to Shiro's cluelessness and their own jealousy.

Lance then turned to Lotor and began dramatically reciting some of Shiro's flirtier remarks. He wasn't quite announcing them, but he was speaking loud enough to get a few people's attention. Lotor laughed, retaliating with some melodramatic swooning, followed by an even more dramatic confession of love for Shiro. Then both Lotor and Lance burst into a little fit of giggles.

Shiro blushed deepest shade of red imaginable. "It was nothing like that!" he said in a grumbling exclamation, keeping his voice low to keep them from earning anymore attention. "I don't flirt with girls," was his added on mumble, his eyes flicking to the table. "I'm just being nice."

"Mhm, being nice and flirting."

Shiro attempted to keep his pout intact, but the laughter from both Lotor and Lance was too much to resist. He broke into his own quiet laughter along with them. Soon all three of them were just a giggling mess, Shiro's face still a fair shade of red.

"So wait, was she really into it?" he asked, buying into their joking with his own smart, sarcastic tone. "I wonder if she thinks I'm cool..."

"Oh, definitely," Lotor said before Lance could give a response. "I bet she sits behind the counter and ogles you. You know, with your red face and inability to keep a straight face. I bet she loves the childish pouting, too."  
"Oh, I bet she's already writing down her number," came Lance's voice. "Wondering if the cool man that she doesn't even know the name of is willing to go on a date with her."

The two grinned at each other and giggled again, delighted by their new alliance found in mocking Shiro for being such a heartbreaker.

"Are you going to flirt with her again when she brings us our orders?" Lotor asked as he watched Shiro, studying his expression. He looked so beautiful with such red cheeks. Lotor had to spend a moment reminding himself that he couldn't invest in his emotions further. He was already too deep in his childish crush on Shiro. Not to mention that he was not only sitting with Shiro's fucking boyfriend, but they were mocking someone else for possibly having the hots for Shiro. Any sign that he liked Shiro and he could be the next target.

Shiro looked at him, rolled his eyes, and offered a smart smirk. "Maybe I will," he said in a sweet, honeyed tone. Shiro suddenly noticed the way Lotor had been watching him — the look in his eyes— and he felt himself blush a bit for... for a different reason. Shiro shook his head and averted his eyes, his next sentence a little more stuttered than before. "Even- even though I never flirted in the first place."

He opened his mouth to say something about how Lance better watch out for the new mystery waitress, hoping to turn the joke around on someone other than himself, but then the waitress in question returned with the three drinks. She set them down, passed them out, and told them all that the cake was going to take a little longer.

"Thanks hun'," Shiro said, trying with all his might to keep from laughing. The other two beside him hadn't been doing as good a job. "See ya then, I guess." He gave her a wink.

She nodded, gave him a warm, blushing smile, and walked off.

"Now, that was kinda flirting," Shiro said, sighing a little. Lance laughed, shoving Shiro's arm.

"Oh my god, babe, she's going to get the wrong idea. She'll think you like her," he teased with a warm smile, pecking his cheek. "Next thing I know, you're going to be making out with her and telling me it was just a joke."

Shiro gave a wince, and shook his head a little. "I've made out with one chick in my life and it was the most awkward thing I have ever done," he said, shaking his head. "Middle school Shiro was a mess. Ugh. Bad memories."

Lotor gave a small laugh, beginning to sip on his tea. It was good, sweet, and hot. It burned his throat a little as he drank it but it was perfect regardless. "How are your drinks?" Lotor asked, unintentionally changing the subject. Lance, already draining his strawberry milkshake, beamed.

"It's really good! Thank you!"

Shiro nodded, the tasty caramel still settling on his tongue from his own first sip. "Really great. Just like last time," he said, nodding. "How's your, uh, tea? Yeah that's what you got. How's your tea?"

"It's good. Sweet but not excessively so, and the flavours are perfect. I'll need to know how they make it."

Ah. Lovely. The atmosphere had changed — it felt so light. So breathable. So... so bright even. Sure, the teasing and his own embarrassment was the main cause for the easing of the pressure, but Shiro couldn't say he minded one bit. He felt relaxed. Warm beside Lance and comfortable with Lotor. He sipped some more on his coffee, licking some excess caramel from his lips.

"When did you first start liking boys?" Lotor suddenly asked, before his face turned a vibrant red from realising that he'd asked such a bold question. "I-I.. sorry, it was just- I'd gotten curious because you'd mentioned being with a girl in high school."

Though a bold conversation starter, this question had caught Lance's attention too. Evidently he'd been curious about it but he just hadn't gotten around to asking.

Shiro's eyes widened a little bit, but he kept himself composed enough to swallow his sip, and set his coffee down. "Oh, I... tricky question," Shiro said slowly laughing a little. "I always knew I was kinda different. Never had any crushes or anything. It took me a while to figure everything out because my parents were so traditional and tried to shield me from all that stuff. I found out in eight grade a month or so after I kissed my girlfriend at the time — a relationship I hated but kept for popularity. I saw a movie with some friends with a gay guy in it. Rocked my whole fucking world..."

He gave a snort, and shook his head a little. "Saw the movie. Did some research. Took all those stupid little quizzes online. Then I finally broke up with my girlfriend," Shiro explained, counting the events off on his fingers. "Had to deal with a bit of internalized homophobia for awhile but then I got over it. Sophomore year I met Adam and we started dating..." Shiro trailed off, shrugging. "I guess I always liked boys. Just didn't know for a while."

Shiro leaned back, finished with his little story. Usually speaking about his childhood and Adam made him uncomfortable... but he felt fine right then and there. His skin didn't crawl and his stomach didn't turn. It was... nice. Shiro, smiling a little at the easy feeling in his system, cocked his head. "What about you guys? When was your gay awakenings? Or, uh, bi awakenings I guess."

Lance turned his gaze to Lotor, gesturing for him to speak first. Lotor raised his hands a little.

"Ah, well- mine isn't exactly a light story," he said with an awkward smile. When neither of them changed the subject or pushed the attention onto Lance, however, he spoke up. "For me, relationships entirely were off the table. I wasn't shielded from it all because I never knew there was anything to be shielded from. My father didn't speak of a time with anyone but the witch, and they were strictly business partners or... coworkers during the day, in people's company, etcetera. They were more professional than anything else. I was homeschooled, too, by various tutors. Never told about love or romance, never taught that having feelings for people was normal. Or wanted."

He noticed how the two were staring, listening intently, and diverted his attention to his cup of tea to focus on something else. "And so I didn't have any kind of a relationship until my late teens. I was either seventeen or eighteen and it was with one of the women I had been grouped with. I was in charge of a small section of the mafia, she was close to me- Axca, I think. Our relationship only lasted six or seven months because my father found out and I had one of his inferiors moved to our sector. Any intimacy or any signs of closeness would be reported to my father. He thought that relationships were a distraction when there was work to be done. When I left, with Allura's help, we became a couple. At this point, I was aware of my attraction to both males and females, but I never thought too much about it. Allura ended our relationship and I attempted to go on a date with one or two males that I'd admired but they never went anywhere."

He seemed to have finished speaking for a moment, before his eyes widened and he seemed to have remembered an important detail. He looked up, turning his attention to Shiro. "Sendak! He was the first male I was attracted to. I made some excuse with my father and was moved to his training group, being taught self-defence, learning how to use various weapons. I'd already begun to admire him before being moved to his group but- but seeing him throw someone across a room? Seeing him working so hard that he has to remove his shirt?" Lotor smiled a little, his cheeks turning pink.

Shiro gave a nod. "Very understandable," he said quietly. "Sendak was a full course meal..." Lance hit his side and Shiro chuckled a little. He shook his head and turned to Lotor. "But please, go on."

Lotor offered Shiro a smile and leant back in his chair, a little flustered now. "But that was it. I had very few relationships and, including Shiro, I've only had feelings for approximately seven people. I've only dated two. I would have gotten involved with Sendak but he was too high in the ranks and my father had deemed him a favourite. I would have been detected immediately if I'd even asked to be his partner- though I was sure he would have said yes. There was a lot of tension between us if I was chosen as his partner for the demonstrations. It was a little awkward to, you know, deal with him when you called, but it didn't matter. It was nice to see him again." The last sentence had obviously been a joke. A poor one, with bad timing and fit for an entirely different audience, but a joke nonetheless.

Shiro suppressed a cringe at Lotor's dark joke, and instead gave an in-awed sort of snort. "Well... that's some story," he said softly, smiling. "Have to say I'm real flattered I'm one of the very lucky seven."

Very lucky? his mind asked him, the thought catching him off guard. Oh, well of course they were lucky... Lotor was a great guy. A complicated, twisted guy, but a good person nonetheless. He was quite a sight to see, as well. Pretty. Handsome. Even kind of hot if Shiro managed to think about him in a certain way — if he were to catch him in the right lighting and the right perspective. Shiro cocked his head a little, brow furrowing as he thought about it.

Would he have a crush on Lotor if he didn't already love Lance? Shiro didn't quite know. It was a strange situation...

Perhaps some time in another life...

Shiro offered Lotor one last smile before turning to Lance. "Alright, your turn, baby," he said, offering a wink. "When did you realize you swung both ways, huh?"

"Ah, well, I was pretty lucky. My parents are all-accepting, as are all of my siblings. Anyone who wasn't... we don't talk to them. My mom always says- if someone is going to waste time hating others, then we wouldn't waste time liking them. Of course, I lost a lot of potential friends by following this, but it meant that when I came out- it wasn't a big deal." He set down his milkshake and leant forward a little, excited to tell his own story.

"I was pretty much Casanova from kindergarten through to high school. I was flirting with any girls that caught my interest. Most of them didn't care, didn't reciprocate, and I'd just move on. The first time I got caught up on a girl was in eighth grade. She had blonde hair, freckles, wore glasses and had a gorgeous accent. I'd sit with her in every lesson that I could get away with it, flirting, talking, whatever. We dated for about three months but I was never too serious about the relationship. It fizzled and she broke up with me but we were still friends for about a year. It was a few weeks after I broke up with her that I started getting really close to Hunk."

He sent a glance to Lotor, smiling a little as if to remind him of how important it was that he'd gotten to call him the day before. "I'd been friends with him since kindergarten. Our moms were friends so when they met up, we met up. I think that I realised I loved him when we were at his house. He'd been showing me something he'd gotten for his birthday and he was super excited and the next thing I knew, I'd kissed him. I didn't really process that I'd done it until afterwards. It was really awkward between us for a couple of days. I needed to figure out why I'd done that and what it meant.

"I sat down with my mom and told her and she just pulled me in for a hug and told me that I must have been bisexual- that it could be a phase or I could be bisexual for the rest of my life. She told me that it was normal and she supported me. Then we started talking about what I could do about Hunk, how to deal with it. She told me to talk it out with him. I did, and we started dating about a month later. I think we were dating for three years- it was my first serious relationship and it was great. Even when we broke up, it wasn't tense or awkward. Hunk and I just realised that we needed to figure everything out and, as we were going to go to different schools after that, we decided it would be healthier for us both if we broke up, let the awkwardness sit and hopefully we would have dealt with it by the time school started so we could date whoever we wanted without feeling the baggage of our relationship. Hunk started seeing Shay about a year later and I started to date around, experimenting mostly, finding out who I liked. I almost dated Allura at one point."

Lotor smiled, keeping his eyes on Lance.

"You were incredibly lucky," he said sweetly, though there was an unfamiliar wistfulness to his voice. "I'm glad you had that kind of experience growing up." And he wished that he had had the same experience, but he didn't dare say so. That sounded so unrealistically perfect. Lotor couldn't quite wrap his head around the concept of not only a supportive and loving family, but also of being accepted and encouraged when it came to relationships and romance at such an age. He had left out the details of his father's reactions to him having a girlfriend, but he had quite a few scars on his body that he'd never have gained if he hadn't been careless enough to be caught with Axca.

"And you three ordered the cake?" asked the waitress from earlier, smiling warmly at Shiro especially as she set it down on the table. She set three plates down in front of each of them before placing down the cutlery. Her mood had improved noticeably since their arrival and she seemed especially fond of Shiro. He had gone too far with his flirting- she had definitely gotten the impression that he liked her. "If there's anything else that you need, just give me a shout. Is that everything?"

"Oh, thanks," Shiro said softly, head still a bit wrapped up in Lance's story. "Yeah, that, uh, looks like everything. But, could you get me a glass of water whenever your free please? Thanks so much."

When she had left, returned promptly with those waters, and then left once more — out of earshot — Shiro turned back to Lance. "Your mother sounds great, Lance," he said, picking up a fork. "She sounds like she really loved you... Makes me wish things were different. I... I'd really love to meet her."

"Yeah," Lance's voice came, a little sadness to his voice. "She would have loved to meet you."

Shiro nodded gently, biting at the inside of his cheek. There was a dip of discomfort. Shiro quickly tried to chase it away. "Let's stop dwelling on the past and just dig into this monster of a cake," he said brightly, already plunging his fork into his side and scooping away a large bite. He took it off his fork, and instantly melted at the taste. "Mm. That's real good..."

Lotor cut a slice from one side and slid it onto his plate while Lance began taking sections off of the side of the cake. He'd marked out the side of everyone's thirds equally, so they didn't need to worry about fair portions. Lance took forkful after forkful from the cake, smiling warmly and loving the mix of flavours from the sweetness of the sugar to the chocolate batter. It was heavenly. And cake for breakfast, too? There wasn't a quicker way to his heart. Lotor began to eat his section of the cake, using his fork to cut neat little sections from the slice he had taken. He was a lot less impatient than the other two and clearly had better table manners than Lance but he honestly didn't care. It was just a relief that he was finally getting along with them so well.

Lance managed to finish his third first, so Lotor kindly donated a slice or so to Lance, as he doubted that he would be able to finish it all- and because he needed to keep himself in shape. His paranoia caused him to consistently feel the need to be in good enough condition defend himself. After the street fight the other day, he was relieved that he maintained such a condition. He hadn't needed to put in much effort and still, he had won the fight.

Shiro, with his small appetite of course, ate the very least out of the three, which was rather ironic considering he had been the one who proposed the idea to get the largest cake in the first place. Of course, he promised he'd eat the rest of it if they got it in a box when Lance and Lotor gave him a look for it. Shiro leaned forward in his seat, holding his head in his hands. His stomach was full and his system was content. Suddenly, it seemed as though nothing could really ruin his mood.

"Excuse me, sirs," the waitresses voice chimed out from beside them. She held a the black envelope of a check in her hands. "If you're ready, I have the bill."

Smiling, Shiro pointed to Lotor. "All his," he said with a laugh.

The waitress nodded, passed the bill to Lotor, but then slipped Shiro another sheet of paper as she leaned back. When he opened his mouth a question it, she simply replied with, "call me," and a wink before turning away. Shiro watched her go, dumbfounded as he unfolded the paper before him. Sure enough, her number was there. Guilt and embarrassment flushed his system, and Shiro stood up swiftly and began to chase after the waitress, trying to ignore the fits of laughter from the two men he dined with. When he caught up to her, he breathlessly explained how he was moving away and that he wouldn't be any fun to date... and of course that he was sorry. Shiro returned back to the table with the reddest of faces, and the darkest of scowls still burned into his mind.

"Shut up," he grumbled, blush flushing all the way to the tips of his ears at the stifled laughter. Shiro sat back down and put his hands on his head, covering up his face. "God. I'm mortified. She's mortified."

"What did we tell you, though? That this was going to happen. Why didn't you believe us?" Lance asked with a smile, shoving Shiro playfully and still beaming. "Come on, let's head back before you have any other waitresses swooning over you, yeah?"

"I second that." Lotor stood, having left the money and a rather excessive tip to apologise for Shiro's behaviour. He pulled on his bag. "We ought to head back. You two still need to pack and get to the airport."

Lance took ahold of Shiro's hand and took Blue's leash. She'd been contently mangling one of the toys that the cafe had, but buried it in the toy box when it was time to leave. Lance had taught her to tidy up her toys to save him a job a few months back. He held onto Shiro's hand tightly, trying to suppress his subtle jealousy. He didn't like that the waitress had given Lance her number, just focusing on the fact that Shiro was gay and that Shiro had rejected her to distract himself before he got too jealous. He pulled Shiro to the door and Lotor dashed over to them, walking a few steps ahead. He seemed to be better now than he was when they'd left, and instead was just walking home so that he could lead them back and keep an eye out for anyone suspicious.

They all seemed much more relaxed than when they'd left.


	37. A Handful Of Goodbyes

The walk home went by faster than the walk to the cafe... which was most likely the result of the lifted atmosphere. Shiro had his boxed cake in one hand, and held Lance's with his other one all the way to the hotel. The four of them, Blue now huffing and puffing, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth, made their way into the lobby, and stopped by the desk. Shiro gave a smile at Lotor when he had turned around, leaning himself against the desk and earning a look from the lady who worked behind it.

"Thanks for taking us out, Lotor," Shiro said, grinning a grateful sort of grin. "It was nice. Sucks that it was the last time we'll really hang out but... it was nice." He turned to Lance, and nodded towards the elevators. "We should go get packing soon. Just come up and get us when it's time to get going, alright? We'll try to be fast."

Lotor nodded. The smile on his lips faltered a little upon being reminded that it was their last time spending time together- it was one of the reasons he had been in a bad mood earlier that morning- but he kept up his smile nonetheless. "Yeah," he said sweetly. "If you need me for anything, I'll be working again."

Lance said a brief goodbye (for now) as he took Shiro's hand, intertwining their fingers. "So," he said teasingly as he looked up at him. "You're one of the very lucky seven?"

Shiro's eyes widened a little, flicking up to Lotor to make sure he'd been out of earshot. Then he let himself blush. "I mean, are you going to look at him and tell me he's not cute?" Shiro said in a slick tone, shrugging his shoulders a little. When he earned his well deserved punch to the shoulder, Shiro gave a little laugh and a shake of his head. "But seriously though. Lotor's a good guy. Whoever he ends up with is gonna be lucky. He seems like a guy who really cares, ya know?"

Still laughing a little, Shiro lead Lance to the elevator, and together they rode up to their room. When they had finally gotten to the bedroom, their gazes falling upon the very scattered contents of their suitcases, both of them uttered rather tired sighs in a bored sort of unison. Shiro slumped a little, morosing about to his suitcase and plopping down beside it.

"Packing sucks," he grumbled, scooping together his clothes and stuffing them into his suitcase. The photographs were still inside. Shiro took them out and set them beside him for safety, making sure to tuck the rings in his back pocket so Lance wouldn't see. "Especially when you're on a time crunch..."

"Yeah," he mumbled as he began passing Shiro the clothes he had folded up earlier. "Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible. When we're done, maybe we can cuddle for a bit. Settle down," he said with a warm smile, running his hands along Shiro's chest.

Eventually, he had folded everything up and slid it all over to Shiro, letting him pack the bags while Lance got everything into the most convenient sizes to be packed.

"Is that everything?" he asked upon leaving the bathroom, handing Shiro their toothbrushes. "I think that it is."

Shiro nodded, stuffing the toothbrushes in some random pocket at the side of his bag. He had packed in a much neater, more efficient way the first time... when Shiro stepped back to stare at his suitcase he found it bulging and overstuffed, the zipper looking obviously strained as it trapped everything inside. Shiro still hadn't packed up the photographs... he wondered if he could get a smaller, second bag to put them in separate. Shiro picked them up — the framed picture of him, Adam, and Matt, a small polaroid of him and his parents on his eighth birthday, and then Lance's drawing of him — and checked them over. There were no scratches in the glass, and there were no tears of the paper. Everything looked to be in good shape. Shiro brought them to his chest in a sort of protective hug, and turned to look towards Lance.

"Do you have extra space in your bag?" Shiro asked quietly. "I just kinda stuffed all my clothes in this time. Didn't have enough room for these and... I don't feel like unpacking it all and folding everything up." He gave a soft laugh at that last bit, rolling his eyes a little. "That's a lot of work."

Laughing softly, Lance nodded and held the bag open for Shiro to put the spare items in. "I'm looking forward to this. I think that we should just sleep as much as possible during the plane ride to get it over with. Unless you want to become a member of the mile high club," he said with a teasing smile, pecking his cheek as he closed their bags and began taking them to the door to leave them out there instead. For convenience.

Shiro gave Lance a look for his little joke, and winked, smirking despite the soft blush creeping about his cheeks. He shook his head a little, straightening up. Shiro stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling to make sure the rings were still there and still safe. He... he didn't know if he wanted to trust the airport baggage security with them. At the feeling of the cool rings in his right pocket, Shiro gave a soft little sigh, and let his shoulders relax a bit. He moved so his arm draped around Lance's shoulders, hugging him against his own body just a bit.

"So, seems like we have some spare time on our hands," he said softly, pressing his own kiss to Lance's cheekbone. It was still bruised, and even though Shiro was sure some of the pain had to have subsided by then, he was gentle with it — cautious. "As much as I want to spend it all cuddling and saying goodbye to that lovely tub in the bathroom... there's something else I think you should do." His tone became a bit more serious at that last bit, not so much flattening... but definitely dropping a bit in his fun-spiritedness. Shiro leaned back and looked at Lance a second, making sure he understood the change in atmosphere before continuing.

"You should probably go talk to Allura," Shiro said, rising one of his shoulders up in a sort of half-shrug. "Not like argument-talk. Like talk-talk. You don't have to if you don't want to, of course, but... I don't think you guys should leave each other like this on such crappy terms, you know? It's whatever you want to do though."

Lance watched him for a few moments, frowning, before averting his gaze.  
"I dunno," he murmured, beginning to pick at the bedsheets. "I don't want to. She's great and she was a good friend and all but... but I don't know if I'll be able to talk to her. She didn't let me talk to Hunk and she was so... so rude afterwards," he mumbled, shrugging a little as he pressed his face into Shiro's chest. "I know that I should but I don't want to. She might get upset at me again..."

He rubbed his arm a little. It was cowardly. It was pathetic. He was willing to leave Allura on such bad times because- because of what? She'd tried to protect him in the wrong way? Because the threat wasn't calling Hunk but she acted like it would be the end of the world? He didn't even know. It just frustrated him beyond belief. He hated how he was so sure that it was worth it. He didn't want to waste his time trying to get an apology from someone who wouldn't give him one. He wasn't going to waste an apology on someone who was too self-righteous to accept it.

Covering his eyes, rubbing them a little, Lance noticed how tense he'd gotten at the subject. He could try to get closure, sure, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to. How could he be 'sure' of any of it? Either make up or be kicked to the curb for trying. He couldn't bring himself to try it.

Shiro gave a nod, reaching his hand up to rub at Lance's back a bit. "That's alright," he said softly, kissing his cheek again. "You're right. She was rude and I wouldn't be surprised if she was rude to you again. If you don't want to go talk to her that's alright. And even if you did want to talk, I'd go into it expecting an apology from her too. She shouldn't get off scot free for being so... you know."

He leaned back from Lance a little, looking around their room in search of something new to talk about. Something different to ease the tension from the air. "I'm gonna miss this damn bed," he muttered, shaking his head. He ran his hand about the mattress, running his eyes up and down the slightly rumpled sheets. "So comfy. Not to mention all those memories we made here, hm?" Shiro offered Lance a little wink. "Hopefully our new one is nice too. I'm sure it will be, but still."

"And we can make new memories," he said with a slightly teasing hint to his voice, not seeming to have cheered up much with the subject change but appreciating it.He settled back, lying his head on Shiro's chest and wrapping his arms around his neck. Closeness would supply the comfort he desperately craved, and he only wanted to be close to Shiro.

Right now, in the moment, he didn't care about Allura or Lotor or the fact that they were on the run from a mafia that wanted them dead. It only mattered that they were together. Lance only cared about being with Shiro right now, about hooking a hand behind his head and pulling him close, about bringing their lips together. Melting into a kiss Shiro hadn't even had time to prepare for. They would have plenty of time to talk while they were on the plane. They could have plenty of time for kissing on the plane, but Lance was going to be at least a little considerate to the other passengers.

Shiro's eyes opened wide, but then he fluttered them to content close, pressing forward into Lance's kiss. It was a nice kiss — not too heated, but not too lacking in passion. It was more tender than anything. A gentle act of pure adoration. Shiro loved it.

It lasted a while, but Shiro didn't feel too breathless by the time they pulled away from each other... almost as if Lance had been a fair substitute for air. Shiro, grinning, leaned in forward and gave Lance gentle kisses along his bottom lip, showering him with his affection.

"So," he said with a giggle into Lance's lip. "Is there anything else you want to do to pass the time? We could go downstairs for a drink or something? Maybe we could start a movie?" Each question was ended with another kiss. "Whatever you want to do, kitten." Smiling, Lance brought him in for a slow and loving kiss, just to cut him off before he could assault him with more suggestions. To satisfy him before he was caught in endless kisses.

"A drink sounds perfect," he said, running his fingers through Shiro's hair. "Maybe I could finally get that haircut, and..." he pressed his lips to Shiro's again, smiling. "Perhaps another drink?"

He loved moments like these. Where it was sweet and pure and smiles didn't fade. Where he was so casual being on Shiro's lap or so comfortable with the carefree atmosphere that nothing could ruin. The mood, the constant lightness and high spirits that he never wanted to end. He wanted to stay in the sweet moments like this forever. If he could, he would.

Shiro smiled at him, and gave a gentle nod. "Alright then," he said, shifting Lance to the side so he could stand. Shiro pushed off the bed and onto his feet, and helped Lance up to stand beside him. Instantly, his hand was about Lance's waist, hugging him close as he strolled his rather lackadaisical way through the bedroom. "Let's go the lab. Maybe Lotor could cut your hair or something if he's there."

"Yeah, hopefully. It's gotten too long now. I'm about three more milimetres from cutting it down myself," he said, smiling as he pushed himself onto his tiptoes to kiss Shiro's cheek.

He was brought out into the kitchen, letting Shiro stray off path to go pet Black on the counter. She chirped and purred at the attention, pressing her face into Shiro's hand. "I wonder how she'll be on the plane," he hummed gently, leaning away from Lance so he could kiss her on the head. He did, and she chirped again, pushing her forehead up into his. "I hope it doesn't freak her out. Driving freaks her out enough, you know? I don't want to sedate her either..."

"I wouldn't worry too much," he said softly, settling his hand on Shiro's arm. "When we're in the sky, she should be fine. I'd only think that she'd have difficulty with getting off and on the ground. Blue should be alright, though, so if she needs to cuddle up to anyone she can just settle down by Blue. She'll curl up into a doughnut around her and keep her safe." He smiled, holding out his hand and letting Black sniff it, soon licking along his knuckles. The rough texture of her tongue was a little off-putting, though, so Lance soon pulled his hand back.

He squeezed Shiro's hand, pushing himself up onto the counter beside Black while Blue trotted in. She jumped up at the counter, her paws resting on it, to sniff at Black and let out quiet little noises, happy to see her.

"They get along so well... See? Nothing to worry about."

Shiro nodded, but he still found himself wearing a nervous frown. They would have to be in cages, wouldn't they? Tucked away all alone in the dark underbelly of an airplane. The idea made Shiro's skin crawl. He rubbed on Black a little more, and then brought his hand down to pet Blue some. He didn't voice his own worries... he figured all it would only accomplish spoiling the mood. Shiro gave a sigh, and then patted each of the pets once more before turning away. He looked up at Lance.

"Black will like the new house. I'm sure," he said, trying to be more positive. "She only had so many places to hide and explore in the apartment, and she lived there for four years. A new home will be nice for her, I think. She'll like the fireplace too... if we get one of course. She always liked hanging out by the space heater."

"Of course we'll have a fireplace. If we don't have one when we get there, we can pay to get one installed. You still have all the money you didn't tell Allura about, right?" he asked sweetly, arms wrapping around Shiro's neck as he brought him close.

He ran his fingers through his hair, leaning in and pressing his lips to Shiro's yet again. He wanted to kiss him lovingly, running his fingers through his soft hair. He was so handsome. He let their foreheads rest together. "We can have a dream house. It'll be so perfect."

Shiro gave a soft laugh. "I think anything could be perfect as long as I've got you," he said in a quiet voice, leaning forwards to kiss him again. And then again, loving the red that flushed up over his cheeks.

He pulled away after a few moments of intermittent kisses, taking a few steps back, his hands finding Lance's and pulling him along. "Let's go downstairs. Cut some of those bangs off, even if they do look kinda cute all grown out," Shiro hummed, tugging him to the door.

"Oh, shut it." Lance trailed behind him, smiling a little and following close behind him. He had a tight hold on Shiro's hand, moving a little closer and nestling up to his side.

In only fifteen or so minutes, they'd found Lotor and went back to his bedroom. He set Lance on a stool in the kitchen and got out his hair care product, smiling warmly at him.

"I'm looking forward to this," he said as he sent a glance to Shiro, who was still idly holding his hand. Lotor nodded.

"You don't need to worry. I cut my own hair frequently to save money."

Shiro gave Lance a smile, and then a quick kiss on his cheek. He let go of Lance's hand, and stepped backwards a bit, giving him and Lotor some room. He cocked his head a little, watching as Lotor moved behind Lance in the stool and brought the scissors to his hair — his state careful and just barely bordering a slight concern. He couldn't deny the fact that sharp scissors beside Lance's soft neck made his stomach churn a bit.

"We're all packed, Lotor," Shiro said softly, leaning against the counter. He wanted to start small conversation to keep his mind from the glinting of the scissors. "I was... uh... I was wondering about the whole pet situation. Are we going to sedate them? They have to stay in the baggage area, right?"

"No, and no. I paid extra to get the two of them a spare seat. It isn't much, and they will have to share, but they only have rows of threes and I didn't want to separate you two. It should be adequate for you." He sprayed Lance's hair with water, beginning to trim it and keeping it short on one side, taking a razor and shaving the other side down to give him an undercut.

Lance was having a little difficulty staying still at this point, as it had been a while since he'd last had someone else cut his hair and it took far too long. Lotor spoke again. "I did pay for them both. Trust me, I took every precaution to make sure that you two have a comfy flight." He tensed a little and grit his teeth before speaking again. "And... Romelle will be sitting two rows from you to keep you safe."

Shiro suppressed a little wince at the slight poison in Lotor's tone at Romelle's name, instead shaking his head a little. "That's allowed?" he asked, sounding a bit bewildered. "I mean... that's amazing, but I didn't think it was allowed. Unless they were like service animals or something. That's real cool. "

He flicked his gaze back to Lance, running his eyes along the sides of his head — taking in the glorious sight of his undercut-in-progress. Shiro gave a slick smile, tilting his head a bit. "That's gonna look so fuckin' hot," he said in a low hum, nodding a little. "You're really good, Lotor. Almost makes me wish I was patient enough to let you do mine, you know?"

"Sometime later," he said with a smile. "If I ever get to spend time with you again, I'll gladly give you a haircut." He combed through Lance's hair, trimming his hair and moving back, smiling a little.

Shiro smiled back. "Sounds like a plan," he said with a wink.

It only took Lotor another ten minutes or so to finish. He took a few steps back and ran his fingers through Lance's hair, brushing the hair from his shoulders. It was cut neatly, though. His hair was trimmed just above his ears and kept short around at the back.

He showed Lance a mirror and his eyes widened. He smiled warmly, hugging Lotor before going to Shiro.

"How does it look? Is it good? Does it suit me? Does the undercut suit me?"

Shiro grinned, already sweeping Lance up into a hug, his arms going up beneath his so he could touch the back of Lance's newly shaved head. He looked down at him, studying the new hairstyle in all its glory. His eyes sparkled at the freshness of it. It was so simple... but so unique. So cute. So handsome. So... so hot.

"Absolutely stunning," he murmured, eying him and his delicious new look. Shiro ran one of his hands up to the longer part, tousling it a bit with his fingers before combing it back to its previous neatness. "Almost makes me forget the bangs. Almost."

Shiro turned his gaze up to Lotor, and, pretending not to notice the very slight look in his eyes, smiled at him. "Thanks, Lotor. He's been whining about his hair for a while now," he cracked, snorting when he was delivered a well-earned thump to the chest from Lance's hand. "It looks great."

"Bet you wish you'd waited a little to get your hair done," Lance teased with a smile, leaning up and pecking Shiro's cheek. Lotor had a little wistful look in his eyes when he watched the short display of affection but smiled and brushed it off with ease.

"Ah, well, there's no time now anyway. We should get your bags. Allura's likely going to text me anytime to let me know that we need to be ready to go to the airport."

Lance nodded, taking Shiro's hand and beginning to drag him back a little. "We'll meet you in the lobby, okay?" he called to Lotor, who only barely managed to say 'I'll see you there' before Lance had dragged Shiro out of the apartment and to the elevator. The mirror in the elevator meant that he could get a proper look at himself for the first time with his new hair. His face broke out into a smile and he grabbed ahold of Shiro's hands tightly. "It looks so good! I'm so glad! I- I love this! I want to shave some patterns into my undercut sometime. Would that look good? Do you think I should?"

Shiro watched him, his whole body flushing warm at the excitement in Lance's tone and the sparkle in Lance's eyes. "Anything would look good on you," he murmured, head a bit tilted, voice a bit softer than he had meant it to be.

A bit overwhelmed by his sudden rushing of affection, Shiro leaned forward and kissed Lance. He could feel his own smile against Lance's lips, his happy smirk almost making it difficult to keep the kiss so steady. Shiro kissed him until the elevator dinged and jerked and opened.. Only then did Shiro pull away, one hand on Lance's waist, and the other one languidly twisting about some of the locks in Lance's new hair.

"Let's go," he hummed, speaking as if they hadn't been making out for the past minute and a half. He held his hand out to stop the door from closing on them, eyes still trained on Lance, eating up the glimmering look in his features, and the soft blush dusting about his cheeks. "I'll get the bags. You get Blue in her leash and Black in her carrier. That sound good?"

Lance nodded, pressing a kiss to Shiro's cheek as he entered their room. When Shiro got in, he'd already disappeared to their bedroom and was he clipping Blue's leash on. He then ushered Black into her cage. She didn't take, staring at the cage and standing dead still as if to let Lance know that she was refusing- so he had to throw a treat into her cage and hope for the best. After only a few moments, she trotted into the cage quite happily and Lance closed the door behind her, beginning back out to the hall.

"Okay," he called to Shiro with a smile. "I'm ready. Pets are in check. How many of the bags have you got?" He picked up a small bag, one stuffed with essentials for Blue, and held it out for her. She grabbed it in her mouth, holding it by the straps and looking very proud of herself as she did. Her tail was wagging as she held this little handbag. Lance didn't want to admit that he'd spent extra money on customising the colour so it would match the leash.

Shiro had his own bag slung over his shoulder, and then held Lance's by the strap. In his free hand he held a plastic bag, stuffed with shampoos, soaps, bathing luxuries, and a few dishtowels here and there. He had stuffed it all into one plastic bag, and then stuffed that bag into another one -- keeping it the perfect level of opaqueness so the lobbyists wouldn't suspect a thing. He had been moving around the living room of the apartment, eyes scanning for things they had missed, or things he could steal. When he found nothing, he gave a soft shrug, and turned to Lance and the pets.

"I've got pretty much everything. Our bags are stuffed to the point of bursting," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't think we're forgetting anything..." Shiro trailed off, patting at his pocket with the back of his hand. He felt the rings, and gave a nod. "Yeah, we're not missing anything."

He hoisted the back on his shoulder up a bit, and raised up his arm so he could just hold the plastic bags steady from their straps like he did when he would shop. Shiro was extra careful with Lance's bag -- not just because it was Lance's, but also because he didn't want the picture frame to crack. He moved over to the doorway and pushed it open with his foot, waiting for Lance beside it. While he waited, he trailed a parting gaze about their apartment, quietly thanking it for all it had done for the two of them. All those secrets it harboured. All the comfort it provided.

Shiro suddenly wondered how he was going to react finally parting with New York.

Finally... finally parting with New York...

His system suddenly sank at the phrase.

Lance stood beside him and pressed the elevator button. He moved a little closer to Shiro, Blue sitting on the floor beside him.  
"So this is... this is it," he murmured. "Goodbye New York, huh? I'm excited. I'm nervous and I'll miss it here but- but I'm excited. I can't wait to live with you." He sent Shiro a glance, leaning over and pecking his cheek again upon noticing how he seemed to be finding this harder to process. "Hey, don't be so tense. Wherever we are, we'll make it home. You and me. Kuron and Pike." He added the last sentence with a grin, rocking a little on his heels and waiting for the elevator to arrive. It was a little tense. Shiro's hesitance was uncharacteristic and a little off-putting. Shiro was never this quiet.

"Hey," Lance started up again after a moment. "Don't worry too much. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Shiro's eyes opened a little bit, almost as if he'd been snapped out of a daze. He nodded a little... half because he wanted to assure Lance he was fine and half because he wanted to shake away whatever... whatever that feeling was. "Of course," he said. His voice was dry. Shiro closed his eyes and cleared his throat. "Of course. I... I'm not worried. It'll be great."

Was this really the first time he realized he would be leaving New York? No! No of course not... he knew he would be leaving for about a week and half beforehand. He had joked about it. He had fantasized about it. Hell, he wanted to leave. Shiro hadn't felt safe in the city since his parents threw him out. The streets left him with scars, inside and out. The place left him bitter. Cold. There were so many bad memories that haunted each avenue and each street. New York wasn't a safe place. It wasn't a kind place. It was a cruel, ugly city -- one that certainly ruined his life...

Moving... finally leaving that God awful city shouldn't have been anything to him -- no, no, not at all...

So why did it suddenly feel so... so heavy?

Shiro felt something like lead in his stomach -- something solid and painful weighing down at his gut. Leaving New York meant leaving his home... he loved the Goddamn city just as much as he hated the place. He had lived upon the sidewalks. He had fought hard battles upon the streets. He had blood on that dark pavement -- his own life splattered about the roads and the cement from bullet wounds and knife slashes and scraped skin. Keith lived there. Adam died there. Adam was buried there, buried in a cemetery Shiro never had the courage to visit. His parents were there... somewhere. The parents he had secretly wished to find him sometime after all those years of neglect. They'd never find him in England...

Oh God. Why was he thinking about all of that? Why did it come to him right then and there as the elevator buckled itself and gave its soft ping? The doors slid open, and Shiro felt his legs lock themselves into place for a moment while he tried to gather his scattered thoughts.

Get it together Shiro! Cry on the plane or something. Just not now! Look how happy Lance is...

Shiro closed his eyes, shook his head again, and forced a little smile. He started walking, making sure Lance was at his side. "Let's just go, huh?" he said, trying to keep his voice a little lighter. "This plane isn't, uh, gonna catch itself, right?" Lance laughed a little and leant up, kissing his cheek again.  
"Yeah," he said softly, beginning out of the elevator as soon as it arrived. "Definitely not. And we have three seats booked that we need to use! Allura will kill us if we don't!" he said happily, well aware of Shiro's current state but not wanting to indulge in it. Not when his emotions could backfire in front of so many people- so many strangers. Not in front of Allura or Lotor or Romelle. He'd talk to him about it when they were alone- either on the plane or in England. All he knew was that it could wait.

Just for a little bit.

Finally, he got out of the elevator and began talking to Lotor, chatting happily with him, a warm smile on his lips. He sent a worried glance to Shiro over his shoulder before forcing himself to avert his gaze and focus back on Lotor. Shiro could handle himself. He could hold back on being too emotional- just for a little bit. And, worst comes to worst, Lance wouldn't mind letting Shiro cry on the journey there. He just needed the emotional relief.

Shiro watched Lance, hanging behind a bit. He felt thankful -- thankful Lance had dismissed his odd tone and had moved ahead to talk to Lotor. He followed Lance up to the desk where the group stood, and leaned back on the counter about a foot or so away, settling the bags down at his feet to relax his muscles a bit. Shiro gave a soft sigh and tilted his head up a bit, reaching a hand up to rub at his temple. He tried to clear his head, to push everything about Keith and Adam and his parents from his mind for at least a little while.

He turned his gaze down to Black in her crate, his eyes narrowing as he looked for her deep black form in the shadow. Shiro wanted to pet her, to hug her close to his chest. She was a bit of New York he wouldn't leave behind. Her and Lance...

God. He was never going to let either of them go.

Soon, Lance was gently taking Shiro's pinkie with his own and beginning to lead him to the car. Allura and Romelle were going in one car, Lotor would be driving the two of them. It was only to drop them off, to ensure their safety while they left. It also, luckily, meant that if Shiro was overwhelmed by emotion, he'd not need to worry about Allura or Romelle being able to see him break down.

Lance got into the car while Lotor packed everything into the back, giving Shiro a small smile while gesturing for him to go ahead and get into the car with Lance.

Shiro nodded at Lotor, setting the bags down by the trunk, and went ahead to go slip into his seat of the car. Lance had gone ahead and put Black and her crate in the front passenger seat beside Lotor -- he gentle yowls of discontentment floating up past the leather seating, just a bit louder than the panting of Blue, who sat at Lance's feet on the floor of the car. Shiro sat in his spot, and pulled the seatbelt over his chest, clicking it in place before reaching his hand over to grab onto Lance's. He linked their pinkies together again, liking the hold. There were a few good moments of silence -- just Shiro and Lance, all alone in the backseat of Lotor's car. Shiro liked them. It put his mind at ease.

It was only a matter of time before Lotor had finished loading up their luggage, and then the car was running. The heat on and blasting. The radio murmuring from its old speaker. The engine grumbling from the car's heavy underbelly. Shiro gave a soft sigh and leaned forward towards the window, pressing his head against it to look up at the building they had called home. He bid it goodbye in his head as the car began its steady course, backing up from its parking spot and then heading steadily down the rather open road. Shiro turned around and watched the hotel vanish behind other skyscrapers at their first turn. When it was gone, he sat back down normally in his seat, and leaned his head up the window again... just watching the scenery.

He knew the others sensed that something was wrong with him. The car was quiet with a concerned sort of curiousness. Shiro tried to push it all away the best he could in bitter hopes that the atmosphere couldn't darken anymore than it already had. Lance was excited about moving. Shiro didn't want to ruin it with his own twisted sense of nostalgic homesickness...

"How long is the flight?" he asked after a while, trying to get that stagnant feeling about the car's atmosphere moving a bit. Luckily he didn't sound too dry or too broody anymore. Just... tired. Yeah, he could blame it all on that pretty easily. "Six hours, right?"

"Six and a half, you have a sixty dollar budget for flight service and anything bought at the airports," Lotor replied as he kept his eyes on the road. They'd be in the car for an hour or two. Lotor used to drive like this often, just on his own, and he'd make hour long trips at a time before turning and driving back another hour. It wasn't an overly thrilling way to amuse himself but his father didn't let him go too far away and it was his only way of escaping for a little bit, distracting his thoughts.

Lance was a little quiet, too. Something being off with Shiro was a little upsetting for him, even when he couldn't figure out what it was and he didn't know how to deal with it. He soon moved to take Shiro's hand properly, wanting it to be clear that he had his support. It was the only way to show his support without starting a conversation about it and if Shiro didn't want to talk about it, he wasn't going to make him.

Shiro felt Lance's hand, and squeezed it back, looking over at him for a second. He gave a tired smile, nodded in a quiet reassurance, and then looked back at the window. Black had stopped her whining in the front seat — she was probably asleep already. Shiro thought about her for a few seconds, letting his soft smile remain present on his face.

"Is airport security going to be okay with my weed?" Shiro asked after another stretch of silence. Unlike before, Shiro had asked the question out of serious concern rather than his attempt of brightening the atmosphere. His mind had wondered upon the topic when he thought about how wonderful it would be to get high right then and there. It was when he thought of his four baggies of weed in the hidden about the pockets of his bag. "I have the card in my wallet... but it doesn't say Kuron on it or anything. They're not gonna take it away, right? Also: I have four knives in my bag. I left the gun at my apartment of course but I didn't part with my knives, you know? That's gonna be awkward to explain..."

"Yeah, I don't know how that'll go down. The knives... as long as they're not hand-luggage and they're wrapped up fairly safe, it shouldn't be an issue. Do you have a permit or anything for them?" he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. Lance was lying down now, his head on Shiro's lap, still gently holding onto his pinkie and watching the them talk. Blue was lying down in the same way in the footwell, curled up.

The atmosphere, even while it was a little tense, was comfortable. Lance preferred this to being with Allura and Romelle- especially when he knew that being with the four of them at once would result in nothing but a fight. The last thing that he wasted right now was to listen to any arguing, so he was happy to listen in on Shiro's odd questions about the illegal stuff he was definitely not supposed to bring with him.  
"I mean, worst case scenario is you get new knives," he chimed in from his place on Shiro's lap.

Shiro gave a soft little whine, and a pout. "Keith gave them to me," he sighed, leaning up off of the window. "I don't have any real permits, and then all of them say Takashi's name, not Kuron's." He flicked his eyes to the floor, looking at his shoes. "Could you mail them to me if they don't let them on the plane? Maybe some of that weed too?" Shiro let himself snicker at that last little bit, shaking his head.

He leaned his head against the window again, resting his hand on Lance's head to properly toy with his hair. "Maybe it would be better if I left them. I've done some nasty stuff with those blades," he said, voice a little distant as he thought about it. "Letting them go would probably be for the best, huh?"

There was a heavy silence for a few long moments.

"Yeah," Lance eventually mumbled. "I think that it would be best. And if you really miss them, we can have them mailed over, can't we?"  
"Oh, sure."  
"See? Perfect. It's as simple as that." He closed his eyes and leant into the sensation of Shiro's fingers running through his hair, letting out a quiet noise of content. "It's been fun to get to know you, Lotor. Even with our ups and downs."

Nodding, Lotor sent them a short glance.  
"Yeah," he nodded. "It was good to get to know you, too. And I had wanted to meet with Taka- Shiro about the ordeal... with my father, anyway. This gave me a reason not to show up out of the blue with nothing but an apology, an explanation I likely wouldn't get to say, and the hope that you'd not kill me upon seeing my face again."

Shiro flicked Lotor a glance at the soft slip of his name, watching his eyes from the rear view mirror. Shiro gave him a soft smirk. "Yeah. If you showed up out of nowhere at my door like two or three weeks ago, I don't think I would have asked questions," he said with a little snort. Shiro leaned off of the window again, settling back into his seat. "Damn... It's almost weird to think about how much I hated you now... it feels like it's been a really long time since I did though."

There were a few moments of silence, Shiro locking his gaze into Lotor's in that slim rear view mirror. He turned his eyes away to the window. "Takashi is fine, Lotor," he murmured, watching the sidewalk as it sped past. A softer sort of smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "The people I care about get to call me that, remember?"

Even from where he lay, Lance could see the heat rise to Lotor's cheeks and the small smile that appeared on his lips.  
"I really appreciate that," he said softly, leaning back in his chair. "Thank you, Takashi. I'm... I'm flattered that you care about me. I really care about the two of you, too." He drummed his fingernails on the steering wheel, smiling fondly. Lance looked up at Shiro.

"I'm glad I don't have to talk Shiro out of murder at the mention of your name," he said teasingly as he took his hand properly for a moment and pressed a kiss to his knuckles before releasing the proper hold just to link their pinky fingers together. "It'll be sad to have to go, Lotor. I was just getting to like you."

Shiro gave a soft huff of laughter before laying his head back against the plush headrest. He closed his eyes, and tipped his head up a bit, breathing in a deep, deep breath as he relaxed. He was feeling a lot better than before, his mind successfully distracted, no longer wandering off in the darker corners of his system and his heart. Shiro listened to the conversation and felt Lance's gentle kisses upon his knuckles, enjoying each to his tired heart's content. Even if the topic was right around nearing somber.

"Yeah," Shiro murmured, reaching up a sleepy hand to rub his eyes. "I'm gonna miss you, I guess. Gonna be kinda ugh only ever being able to talk to you on a pay phone every now and then, you know?"

Lotor smiled warmly. Even if it was a little bit of a depressing thing to think of, Shiro and lance were being genuine while being nice to him. It was hard to remember the last person who did that.

"I'm going to miss you guys, too. I'll look forward to those calls," he said softly as he kept his eyes on the road. He had a warm smile on his lips. "And I'm not promising anything, but I could try to convince Allura to take me down to visit you two sometime. Or... or for you to come here. I think that that would be safer for me. Either way, I think that Allura might be able to get you guys over here and I'd- I'd like that. Again, it's only a maybe, but... but I'd like it."

Shiro's whole dreary system brightened a little. "We might be able to come back?" he asked, voice lifting up so much he nearly bordered his regular tone. "Like, to visit?"

That made things a bit easier, Shiro supposed. It was a might, and even then it was ever only going to be a visit, but the small possibility was much easier to swallow than the looming forever. It was lighter. It made him feel a bit lighter... let him have the slimmer of hope that his goodbye wouldn't be permanent.

Shiro noticed the soft glances he got from the other two in the car, and blushed a little, toning down his subtle excitement. "I, uh, just like that idea a lot," he said quietly. "Even... even if it would be kind of stupid dangerous to come back."

"We'd take a lot of precautions," he assured him with a smile. "Trust me. I'd rather nothing happened to you." Lance was smiling as he held Shiro's hand, still pressing a few idle kisses from his fingertips to his wrist as he lay there. It was nice. And he liked seeing Shiro smiling. He pressed another soft kiss to the knuckle on Shiro's thumb.

"I'd like to come back, too," he told Shiro. "Maybe I'd have the courage to clear things up with Allura if I came back sometime."

Shiro smiled down at him, his breath feeling a bit lighter in his chest. "Well, that's great," he said in a sigh. He flicked his eyes to Lotor, and then back to Lance again. "If, uh, you couldn't tell I was already starting to get a little homesick... and we haven't even left yet..."

His smile faltered a second, but he still managed to keep his eyes bright. Shiro looked forward at the seat before him, almost studying the leather padding. "It's just kinda crazy, you know? That I'm finally saying goodbye to this place... It all kinda just hit me after we were done packing," Shiro hummed, leaning back. He felt more kisses upon his hand and his wrist, and smiled a bit more, blushing. "At least if were able to visit it won't be a permanent goodbye... you know?"

"Perhaps when my father dies, I can take power," he muttered. "I'll be able to, I have the abilities needed. You two will be able to come and go freely." He smiled warmly- a little bit of an odd topic to be happy about, his father's death. "But I wouldn't get too excited. I'd love to do that, but... but we'll just have to see how it progresses."

He sent a small glance back. Lance's eyes had closed and he seemed content. The sunlight was shining onto his face so he used Shiro's hand to cover his eyes. He looked like he was about to fall asleep so Lotor didn't speak too loudly, not wanting to disturb him. Besides- a private goodbye with Shiro would do him some good.

"When your father dies..." Shiro echoed quietly, thinking rather hard about it. "Yeah. Maybe. That would be cool."

There was a beat of silence while he processed what he had said. "Not that it would be cool if he died- I mean, unless you think it is... I-... uh..." he trailed off, losing his words. Shiro gave a sigh and slumped a little bit. He shook his head a bit. "You know what I mean," was his defeated sigh.

"No, I know what you meant but I agree with what you said."

Shiro leaned back against the seat, and turned to look out the window again. Lance was asleep in his lap now — at least it seemed at way. His eyes were closed and his features were set in a relaxed, content sort of way. His breaths were even and still. Lance had let go of Shiro's hand, but he still held it over his boyfriend's eyes — blocking out the sunlight with his shadow.

"I don't know how I feel about leaving," he admitted into the quiet car. "Lance is... beyond excited. I was too but... all of a sudden I'm kinda getting freaked out about it. Almost sad. Even though I hate this Goddamn place. Weird, huh?"

"It's natural. I didn't want to leave my home until Allura encouraged me to do it. I was afraid of leaving, I didn't want to lose what I'd gotten used to. It'll be for the best- and, hopefully, if all goes to plan... you can move back when my father dies. It won't be an issue, I can assure you. I'll even pay for the house."

Shiro gave a soft sigh. "Thanks," he murmured, letting his eyes fall to a close — just feeling the cool surface of the glass on his head.

Lotor glanced to a sign- the airport was about an hour away by now. "Is there anything that you think we should discuss? Anything you want or need closure for?" He eventually asked, wanting to know and get any leftover tension or curiosity off of the table before they separated. "I'll answer any questions, nothing is off-limits. I want to make sure that there's no negative thoughts or anxieties lingering in the back of your mind."

Cracking open one of his eyes, Shiro let himself frown a bit, brow furrowed in thought. "Oh... uh... well, I don't know," he half-rambled, wondering if there was anything that sparked his inner curiosity. There was a moment or so of thinking, before he straightened up a bit, eyes finding Lotor's in the rear view mirror again. "Here's a heavy one I guess... why would you ever, uh, develop any sort of feelings towards me? Like, I was nothing but an ass to you for days. Even after we made-up or whatever I still acted like a dick. I just... don't really get what makes me so... likeable? I'm still kinda shell shocked over the idea that Lance likes me after everything I did to him..." Shiro trailed off, and shook his head a little. "Sorry. This isn't about him. But, uh, yeah. I'm just kinda curious."

Lotor glanced at him for a moment, turning pink as his eyes fixed back to the road.

"I think... after the restaurant, actually. You went that far to apologise and even let me hit you a little bit. I... I remember when I'd kicked you to the floor, I looked down at you and you complimented me for how I punched you. That was about when it hit me, I think. I probably thought you were attractive and didn't admit it to myself. It also meant a lot that you listened to me when I spoke about my father."

He was still looking at the road, but his hold on the steering wheel had tightened a little with tension. "I don't get to vent about him often, so it did mean quite a lot when I spoke about him, about the abuse, and you not only listened to me- but... you didn't roll your eyes or degrade my experiences. The first time I tried to tell Allura, she'd asked why I had a certain scar. I got about as far as 'well, when I was younger, my father' before she shushed me and kissed it and told me it didn't matter. I know she meant it as a... as a way of avoiding opening old wounds, but... yeah. It just made me feel like she didn't want to hear about it and that was the first time I didn't think our relationship would work."

Seemingly done speaking, Lotor fell silent and simply watched the road. He didn't know whether or not Shiro would have any other questions so he wouldn't change the subject. He said he would answer any questions, and he'd meant it. It may have been his dumb feelings influencing his thoughts, but he didn't think that it was fair to keep anything hidden from Shiro any longer.

Shiro nodded, staying quiet as he listened — making sure not to part his lips until he was certain Lotor had finished. After a good few moments of silence, Shiro gave a soft sigh. "I guess that makes sense..." he murmured, wondering if agreeing with Lotor was a vain thing of him to do. Listening wasn't exactly an odd talent of his, Shiro supposed. He was just good at it... even if he didn't know how to respond half the time, Shiro knew how to listen.

"I... I'm sorry things didn't work out with you and Allura. The way you talk about her..." he trailed off, not really wanting to touch any over sensitive topics while Lotor was at the wheel. "I... I can just tell she meant a lot to you. Also sorry I, uh, used that against you the first couple nights Romelle showed up... that was really shitty of me."

"Not the best, not the worst. Don't beat yourself up over it," Lotor shrugged it off, though his did genuinely appreciate the apology. It meant a lot more to him than he would admit.

There was another dip of quiet — the only bits of sound the white noise. The purring engine and the wheels rolling about upon the highway. The clicking of the turn signal whenever Lotor would switch lanes and the squeaking of the leather seats whenever one of them would move. Shiro waited a few moments, catching another sign telling them of their longer journey to the airport.

He blew some air out of his mouth, and shrugged his shoulders a bit.

"Same goes for me with the question stuff," he said, a bit nervous at the sudden threat opening up. "It's only fair. And we've got the time. If you've got anything you wanna know just like... hit me I guess. Metaphorically this time." He smirked at Lotor, and winked at him when he caught his eyes in the mirror. Quickly looking away, Lotor hoped that Shiro hadn't noticed the blush dusting his cheeks.

"Alright," he said softly. "I wasn't in the room when you were explaining how you and Lance met or why you wanted to protect him. Would you mind filling me in? You don't have to go into too many details- just up to the incident with Sendak, from meeting Lance. If that's alright?" He had been quite curious for a while. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to bring up without an invitation. Nothing was easy to bring up in this line of work, but personal business? That was banned entirely.

Shiro's eyes widened a little -- though with a shimmer of excitement. "Oh! Well isn't that a fun story," Shiro hummed, flicking his eyes down to Lance. "This doofus decided to bust in on a meeting Sendak and I were having in one of my favorite warehouses -- the one with all the conveyor belts and shit. Sendak was gonna kill him but I didn't let him. I... I don't know why really. Maybe I just didn't want to get into a gunfight -- I don't like loud noises. It... it also might have been the look in his eyes."

He paused a second to think about what he was saying, but continued on... even if he couldn't tell what made sense and what didn't as it all left his lips. Lotor listened intently, fascinated. "He looked fresh, sorta. New to the whole mafia stuff. Everyone's eyes were always hard and dark and like... dismal or something. Mine are. Yours are. The police officers who deal with people like us have dark eyes too. It's what you get when you live this life. I guess... looking at him in that wearhouse... scared out of his mind... he reminded me of me back when I was new to the Galra mafia and everything. He looked innocent... he just looked like someone I had to protect..."

Shiro looked down to Lance again, watching his sleeping face with a look a bit more deepened and blue with soft sorrow. His eyes ran along the old bruise on his cheek, and then to the scratches and marks on his arms from Sendak. "I didn't do that good of a job, I guess..." he murmured, cocking his head. "I punched him. That's what the bruise on his face is from. Broken cheekbone. It happened a few days before you guys showed up. We got in a fight. He said some stuff about Adam... stuff like how I couldn't protect him and he would have been disgusted with me if he could see me today or something like that... I lost my head and I just..." Shiro couldn't finish. He shook his head and lifted his hands to his eyes, wiping away at the gathering tears. "I hit him. I brought him into this mess. He... he's killed someone, Lotor. He killed Sendak to save me -- I couldn't do it, Sen had me by the throat. Lance has blood on his hands and it's all my fault."

Shiro gave a sigh, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. He gave a harsh sort of laugh. "Sorry," he huffed, wiping at his eyes again. "Don't know where that came from. I just kind of vent-vomited all over you. Haha. Dumb..."

"No, no, it's understandable. And- and if I know anything, you can't blame yourself for Lance's actions. He could have apprehended him, he could have just knocked him out, but he didn't. It's not your fault, it was his decision. Even if it was only to protect you, he did it for you. He did it as a deliberate decision. Trust me." He sent Shiro a glance over his shoulder, smiling a little. "Trust me."

Shiro offered him a weak nod and a sniffle, his eyes sparkling a little.

He kept his eyes on the road, leant back in his seat, sighing a little.

"That's a pretty interesting story, though. You're an admirable man, Shiro. It's impressive- especially standing up to Sendak when he has a gun at someone. And did you call him Sen? Did you call him Senny, too? God, he hated that name. I think that I called him that once and he threw me halfway across the room in retaliation. It didn't hurt, anyway, it was just awkwardly erotic."

Shiro laughed a little, much more lighthearted than before. "Oh, yeah," he hummed. Shiro gave one last sniffle, properly forcing away all those spurring feelings of waterworks, and continued. "Sen. Senny. Senny-boy. I'd call him 'handsome' a bunch too. I had that guy wrapped around my finger... even if he was kind of my superior. Sorta. We were almost on the same rank -- Zarkon liked me more, though, so I don't know." Shiro paused a second, tilting his head a bit. "He didn't like me more. He liked my body-count more. Also he kinda owed me still, I guess..."

Sighing, Shiro leaned forward, careful of Lance but keenly interested in more conversation. "We were drinking buddies," he laughed. "After every job we'd go out and get shitfaced. It's why he'd let me call him all those dumb nicknames... even though I would get a hard punch or two if I used them around our superiors. Senny-boy specifically. He hated that one."

He suddenly narrowed his eyes for a second, growing quiet. Shiro, before Lotor could get anything out, pointed his finger at him. "I don't have a nickname for you," he said in a thoughtful hum. "We've gotta get that done before I leave. That's a must."

Lotor smiled a little. "I thought 'dickhead' was enough of a nickname. Or- well, I think that 'the fucker that ruined my life' was a pretty decent name. You'd settled on that one for a while." He smiled a little, running his fingers through his hair. "But I see what you mean about Sendak. I was his superior, too, due to being Zarkon's son, but- oh my god, he didn't take any shit from me. I think I asked him once if we could go for a drink and instead of, you know, letting me down with a no or whatever, he punched me in the face and told me to fuck off. It wasn't too painful, though, so it didn't affect my feelings for him at all." He glanced around a little, flicking on his indicator. "But what kind of nicknames are we going for? Just a warning, I am quite submissive, so 'daddy' or 'master' are not on the table." His tone was teasing now, totally playful, but still he made his own cheeks redden with his own comments.

Shiro gave a loud laugh, reaching up to cover his mouth so he wouldn't wake up Lance. "Fucking Christ," he giggled into his palm, face glowing red. "You're too much." Shiro swallowed back his chuckles, shook his head a little, and thought for a bit. "Hmm. Lotor, Lotor, Lotor. Pretty guy. Pretty hair. Hm. Your name does kinda sound like that shampoo company or whatever the hell it is. Does L'otoreal suit you, pretty boy, or is that too cheesy?" He snickered a bit too much at his own joke, and even more so when he heard the long sigh from the front side of the car.

"I suppose so," he said after a moment, a smile on his lips and warmth in his voice. Even while mockingly disappointed, he couldn't help but smile. Shiro just had that kind of charm. "Better than some things I've been called, I can tell you that."

He glanced at another sign as they passed it. Not too long to go now. He really didn't want to have to say a proper goodbye. Not to either of them- especially not when he knew that he'd be driving Allura back so Romelle could return home in Allura's car after her flight back. Especially not knowing that he'd be spending almost two hours in dead silence with his ex-girlfriend who suddenly hated his guts twice as much as usual. Especially not while she could say anything that she wanted. She'd likely be driving, even though this was his car, and she could say whatever she wanted and he'd just have to listen.

He didn't want to go back to spending all of his time in the lab with his headphones on, designing prosthetic after prosthetic after prosthetic to keep all of his attention on work so anxiety wouldn't set in, and so Allura wouldn't talk to him, or so he'd not have to witness Romelle being extra affectionate with Allura just because it made him uncomfortable or irritated.

He didn't want to say goodbye to the only two friends that he actually had.

But, inevitably, they had arrived at the airport. Lotor was prepared to get out of the car to begin unpacking their bags- but he didn't quite want to get out yet. As soon as Allura and Romelle caught sight of them and knew that they were ready to go in, that was it. There 'wouldn't be time' for goodbyes, despite how their flight wasn't for almost two hours.

He unclipped his seatbelt, turning to face Shiro.

"We should get the goodbyes over with now," he muttered, not seeming too enthusiastic about it. "So... I'll go first." His gaze flickered to Lance, who was just waking up, his tired gaze fixing on Lotor. "I know that it was difficult for you to deal with what had happened because of me, but I greatly appreciate that you forgave me and I'm glad that we were able to become friends. You've made this last week- or so- one of the best. I've missed having someone to go out and get a drink with or to visit a cafe with or- or just having people to talk to. So... thank you both. I'll give you my number as soon as you're ready and leave you a note of what time to call me at. There should be a payphone down the road from where you'll be living- it's an old one, and pretty shit, but still functional. We'll be able to call once a week at the most."

He'd only changed from his sentimental drivel because he could feel warmth behind his eyes and a churning sickness in his stomach. Everything in his brain was telling him not to let Shiro leave, to convince Allura it was safer if they stayed- anything! But... they had to do it at some point. It wouldn't be fair to keep them in a hotel, and this was the life that they deserved. Lotor couldn't be selfish. Diverting the conversation to a more rational, calm subject- like the phone calls- helped him reserve himself and push back the humiliating emotions before the tears came to his eyes.

Shiro watched him, his own already weakened eyes growing a bit too hot for his own liking as well as the man went on. He nodded slowly, wrapping one of his arms around Lance's waist — he had just pushed himself upright into a sit. "Yeah. As crazy this week has been... it was really great to me. You were great to me. To us. I don't know how we're ever going to repay you, Lotor," Shiro started, his voice quiet. It wasn't somber... but it certainly wasn't happy. Maybe it was a mix of the two. A saddened peacefulness. An accepting dreariness. "I'll be sure to call you as much as possible... maybe I'll even bring a shot with me or something and we can sorta drink together." He gave a wistful laugh. "I don't... I don't really know what to say. It sucks we have to split so soon after fixing all the shit we had with each other... God, I hope I can visit."

Lotor smiled a little, looking over at Lance.

"Don't let him do too much stupid shit," he said with a smile. Lance smiled back and glanced up at Shiro.

"I won't," he promised. "Not alone, anyway."

Lotor opened his mouth to say something else when his phone pinged. He checked it- immediately sighing. Allura had messaged saying that she could see his car, telling him to come inside. He sent her a thumbs-up emoji.

"Time to go," he murmured, stepping out of the car and going to the trunk to begin taking out their suitcases, not saying another word.

Shiro frowned, turned to Lance, and gave a soft sigh. A wan smile pulled at his lips despite the sad look in his features. "Kinda weird I'm sad about leaving the guy I hated so much just a few weeks ago," he murmured, shaking his head. Shiro leaned over and undid his seatbelt, making sure to press a kiss to Lance's cheek before opening up his door. He slipped out of the car, and waited at the curb for Lance to follow, taking his hand when he had. They made their way to the back of the car and waited for Lotor by the trunk.

Shiro was quiet. Thinking.

Lance held his hand tightly. Blue was trotting beside him, holding his own leash and the little bag. Lance passed Shiro the small crate with Black inside.

"I love you, okay?" he said softly as he looked up at him. "Now let's... let's get on this plane and go to our home-to-be." He moved away, beginning to sort the bags so they'd be as convenient as possible to bring in, approaching Romelle to start talking to her about the flight. Lotor approached Shiro, smiling softly.

He brushed his hands off on his pants a little, seeming anxious, before he held out one hand to shake Shiro's hand.

"It was good to get to know you."

Shiro looked at Lotor's hand for a good moment or so, and then flicked his eyes up to Lotor's face, his look oily with sarcastic judging. Without another word, he stepped forward, and sweeped Lotor into a hug. Two arms wrapped about Lotor and pulled him in tight. Shiro rested his head on Lotor's shoulder, and gave a long sigh.

"It was good to get to know you too," he said softly. "I know I keep saying this but... jeez... I really can't thank you enough. For everything. Even with the ups and downs." Lotor's arms wrapped around Shiro after a moment of shocked hesitance. His eyes closed and for a moment he thought that this was going to be what finally made him break down into sobs he'd been holding back for hours now- but he held back. He wasn't going to ruin this hug with humiliating emotions. Instead, he pressed his face into Shiro's neck and spent a good few seconds convincing himself to break away from Shiro. When he did, and he had taken a step back, he felt a lot better; yet a lot worse at the same time.

"I'll miss you," he said softly. "So try to take care of yourself. You and Lance. Between you and me- while he might be more responsible, he does rely a lot on you." He moved back a little, sending a glance in Lance's direction. "Keep an eye on him, Kuron. You need to look after him as much as he's going to look after you."

Shiro gave Lotor a sad grin. "Of course, L'otoreal," he said with a tired snicker. "You look after yourself, too. Don't let Allura give you too much trouble, right?"

Shiro heard Lance call to him from where he chatted with Romelle. He turned his head and saw Lance's waving hand, Allura and Romelle waiting rather expectantly beside him. Shiro gave a soft wince, and nodded at his boyfriend before turning back to Lotor. He gave a frown, and a soft shrug.

"I... I guess this is goodbye then," he murmured, starting to take his first step away, foot slow as it dragged backwards against the pavement. Shiro froze up for a moment, though, watching Lotor... thinking... wondering if what had just popped into his head was a good idea or not. There was a second or so of hesitation, but then the impulse took over, and Shiro moved back towards Lotor for a moment.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Lotor's cheek. It was strictly platonic of course — not meant to tease or to lead on. Shiro kissed Lotor with a sweet and simple sort of kiss, fitted with a soft smile and a fond gaze when he leaned back. "Something to remember me by. Until we see each other again," he said, a soft blush dusting about his cheeks. "I'll try to call you when we get to the house. If it's not too late here... time differences and junk. Gross."

 

Lotor smiled a little, though his cheeks had gone very, very red.

"Yeah," he said warmly, his mood lifted as the tension left his body. "I'll be waiting for the call." He'd slipped Shiro a note with his phone number while they'd hugged. "And Romelle will drive you to your house before coming back here," he said softly, leaning over and shyly returning the chaste kiss before moving back. "I'll... I'll talk to you later, then."

Lotor got into the car and turned the key in the ignition. A few moments later, Allura was sitting in the passenger side. They exchanged very few words before the car started and Lotor began to drive away, sending Shiro one last look and waving to him over his shoulder before pulling out of his parking space and disappearing down the road.

And now it was only Lance, Romelle, and Shiro, faced with the task of getting through an airport.


	38. Plane Journey

The airport was hell. Just as Shiro expected to to be.

After he had joined Lance and Romelle -- and after he had scoffed and disregarded Lance's judging stare for his little goodbye kiss -- the small group of three had wandered their way into the very busy airport. Of course, being a man of the city Shiro never had too much trouble around crowds but... the energy of franticness and hurriedness of the building around him irked him terribly so. Every man in a business suit that would rush past and jostle him ever so slightly made Shiro's bitterness sizzle. Every screaming child of one of those large perfect families going on one of their perfect trips to Florida left Shiro irritable and on edge.

The waiting had been even worse. The waiting for their tickets to be processed. The even longer waiting for their special request to keep the animals on the deck, even though they ended up having to get both pets sedated anyways. The waiting for their baggage to go through security. Lotor had taken the knives out when he had sorted through Shiro's bags, but the weed was another, rather long and vexing story of fake doctor's notes and fake marijuana cards -- bless that Romelle for having everything printed and ready. Every time the chipper voice over that garbled speaker would announce the flight to London originally scheduled for 4:15pm had been delayed, Shiro let himself grow more and more impatient. They were delayed five times due to weather and other complications. By the time the tired, waiting group of flight passengers had been told by an attendant that their flight would arrive in thirty minutes, nearly everyone was in a sour mood. Even Romelle.

The only good part about the waiting were the people they waited with. It was a relatively small, more private flight -- most had been rich business people carrying about fancy suitcases and dressed in fancy attire. There had been one small family there in the waiting area, two parents and one little kid. He was about six or seven, and was absolutely in love with Shiro's arm. It took a bit for Shiro to buy into his questions and nagging starts to conversations, his knowledge of kids and how to speak to them fairly limited, but after he had gotten comfortable, the two spoke for nearly two and a half hours of the four and half they were cooped up for.

The kid told a lot of stories. He also asked a lot of questions... questions that Shiro mostly answered with lies. By the time they had finished, Shiro learned that the boy had been moving to London with his parents into a fancy new mansion, and the boy learned that Shiro had lost his arm on a failed rocket launch for NASA, and was in a secretive fight club. Shiro let the kid pet Black, who was dazed and tired on her sedative that would last another twenty hours or so, and then let the kid touch his "weird bangs." He was fast asleep in his apologetic mother's lap by the time the plane had finally touched down -- worn out from his personal stories and all those touchy questions about Shiro's scar or Shiro's black eye.

Finally, a sleepy Lance, an irritable Romelle, and a rather blank Shiro all boarded their plane. The drowsy animals -- Blue in her leash and Black in her crate -- had been set in their seats in Lance and Shiro's row. Romelle took hers just a row behind them. Shiro squeezed in to the window seat, and Lance plopped down into the middle, Blue on his other side with Black's crate safely tucked beneath her chair. Lance was idly scratching behind Blue's ear, even while she was sedated and barely responded to it with more than a dull thumping of her tail. She'd have been more energetic, but it already took a lot of energy to even supply Lance with the soft thudding of her tail on the plush seats.

Shiro looked out the window, his hand absently groping for Lance's on the armrest. They hadn't even started moving yet -- the plane was still boarding. It was an inky sort of dark outside, the sky black above them. Shiro ran his eyes through it a moment, the slight fear that tangled up in his stomach making him question why he ever wanted to be a pilot when he had been younger. With a sigh, Shiro attempted to shake off his nerves by settling back into the rather comfortable chair he was settled in. First class was nice. Very spacious. Very plush. Shiro traced circles around Lance's knuckles, still watching the dark world outside.

"So," he said quietly, interrupting the tired silence. "This is really it, huh? We're really leaving..."

Lance had woken up a little since being in waiting. He'd been a couple of seconds from falling asleep on Shiro's shoulder when the kid had come along. Watching the interrogation filled his stomach with a churning and while he had wanted to talk to the kid, too, or to help Shiro figure out how exactly you were meant to deal with kids... he could have sworn that one of his little brothers had that same haircut and colour, and that another had the same dimple. That one of his sisters had the same freckles and similar eyes. Homesickness had stirred and he just kept quiet and avoided looking at this unfamiliarly familiar kid.

He looked over at Shiro, still quite clearly exhausted, but managed a smile.

"Yeah, finally," he said softly as he gave a reassuring squeeze to Shiro's hand. "And first class, too. That's got to be a bonus."

He was a little calmer about this than usual. Either because he was exhausted or because his excitement had died down from the wait or the homesickness or whatever it was that had stripped him free from his prior excitement. He let his head rest on Shiro's shoulder- lucky enough to be sitting on the opposite side to his prosthetic, meaning that he could rest on his boyfriend with only a little discomfort, instead of lying on a massive metal chunk embedded in his joint.

"Did you bring the remote, or is it with me?" he asked as he traced circles on Shiro's thigh with his other hand. "Just so that we can change the light because it's dark out." And because it was pretty fucking cool to fuck with Shiro's arm.

Shiro smiled a little, flicking his gaze from the window to the lovely man sitting beside him. "Remote's in my bag," he hummed gently, liking the quiet tone of Lance's voice. "But you can dim the lights if you do this." His hand rose from Lance's and wandered about the metal of his shoulder attachment, searching for that button. Shiro found it, and pressed down. The light dimmed down to a delicate amber. Shiro looked at Lance and grinned again. "There we go, baby."

Lance had kicked off his shoes before they were even on the flight, leaving them by his bag and bringing his feet onto the chair to curl up. "I love you, Shiro," he mumbled as he cupped his cheek, pulling him down for a short kiss. "I really- I- I can't wait to live with you. This is going to be the perfect house and we'll make it a home, no matter what condition it's in."

Nodding a little, Shiro closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Lance's, just enjoying their closeness. "I love you too," he murmured. "At this point, anywhere would be home with you..." He leaned in a little more and kissed Lance's cheek. The comment alone had made warmth and happiness swell up, blooming in Lance's chest.

The little boy and his family shuffled past them in search for their seat. The kid caught sight of Shiro and gave an excited wave, to which Shiro responded with a simple nod of his head, and his own smile. When the kid had turned away, he's been whispering something to his mother. She gave a little laugh, looked back to Lance and Shiro, and then turned around again.

"Yes," Shiro caught her saying in a laugh as he listened in. "You can snuggle with boys just like you can with girls."

He couldn't quite lose his new grin after that, wrapping his arm about Lance's shoulder and pulling him close as he focused his attention back to his boyfriend. "It would be kind of hard calling any place without you home," he hummed in continuation. "You do have my heart, McClain. I don't think I'd get very far without it..."

"My, my," Lance teased as he lay there. "And I thought I was the loverboy." He took Shiro's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles again. "But really, I do love you Shiro. I mean- I can say for a fact that I wouldn't be alive without you, but I don't know what I'd do if we weren't... weren't us. Being with you has been one of the happiest experiences I've had," he said softly, cupping his cheek and pulling him in for a delicate and tender kiss, slow and loving. It wasn't impatient, like so many others. It wasn't needy or demanding or clingy. Lance just ached for Shiro's closeness and he wanted to show his love in the only way he could think of.

His hand settled on the back of Shiro's neck, playing with the fuzz of his undercut. He smiled against his boyfriend's lips but pulled away before too long, resting their foreheads together. "I love you. I can't wait for this. We're going to have the perfect house and as soon as I see what we have to work with, I'm going to start with a floor plan and design it into an ideal room for us." He pressed another tender kiss to Shiro's lips, but much shorter this time. "I love you so much."

Shiro looked at Lance, a loving smile on his lips and a certain amount of stars in his eyes that made his gaze as tender as it could be. "I love you too," he responded simply, kissing Lance back for a few moments. Shiro pulled back a little, his tingling lips parting to speak, but he was cut off by a loud whirring from the engine beside them. Shiro quickly spun around to peer out the window again, watching the wing they sat beside light up into life. The engine began whining a bit louder, it's inner propellers testing their speed. Both his hands moved to Lance's, one intertwining their fingers and the other protectively cupping their dorsal palms. There was a soft ding from the front of the plane — up from where the doors to the cockpit sat — and the passengers attention was turned to two smiley flight attendants.

The two attendants, a younger man and an older woman, went on about safety rules and exits and breathing masks for a bit while the plane began to move, making its slow way throughout the twisting runways while its engines prepared for liftoff. Shiro grew bored of the presentation and turned his head to watch the window again, running his eyes along the glittering airport building as the plane slowly grumbled past it, making its way out to the further stretches of the property. He wondered if Lotor and Allura had gotten home yet — if they were tracking the plane from their phones. For some reason he hoped they were. He felt a little safer at the thought.

After awhile of that, the plane gave a heavy grumble and a screech, and the entire thing bucked a little. The seatbelt lights popped on with a ding, and the captain announced they were taking off in his tired voice over the speakers. The plane lifted from the ground slowly and loudly, but then began its steady ascent. Shiro's ears popped and his stomach flipped as soon as the pressure changed. His grip tightened on Lance's hand. Some of that jarring hesitation from earlier returned with a sharp pain in his gut. He shut his eyes closed tight, and let out a shaky breath that tumbled past his cringing lips.

Lance immediately noticed this and he moved closer. He pressed a kiss to Shiro's cheek gently. "Breathe, Takashi, breathe," he murmured to him. "When we're steady, it won't be like this. Just breathe until you don't feel sick," he encouraged sweetly as he pressed loving kisses along his neck and held onto his hand tightly. "Okay?"

Lance was clearly more at ease. He was relaxed, his eyes closed, and he leant against Shiro. Even with the light churn of his stomach and the slightly overwhelming sensations that the ascent provided, he was clearly more at ease than Shiro was. He didn't have any problems with being in the air. "When we're up, we can go to sleep. Knock out a while of the journey like that. How does that sound?" Lance had gotten very comfy now. He'd pushed up the armrest between them and was even closer to Shiro, his legs swung over his boyfriends lap. He still held tightly to Shiro's hand, though.

Shiro gave a soft nod, breathing deeply. The plane was already steadying itself, rising higher and higher and turning Shiro's stomach more and more. He fluttered open his eyes, and took a peek out the window, noticing with an almost sickly fascination how quickly they had been rising. There was a sparkle of excitement beneath the layers of dizziness and homesickness — making him remember just how interesting flight and piloting had been to him when he was a kid. The nostalgia clashed rather oddly with everything else. Shiro closed his eyes and turned back to Lance, leaning into him with another trembly sigh.

"God, I feel so weird," he whispered, voice a bit more trembly than he thought it would be. He gave an empty huff of laughter. "I'm excited but like... also kinda freaked out about leaving. Lots of, uh, conflicting emotions... hah..."

There was a pause. A strange sort of feeling fell over him, blanketing his common sense. The words began leaving his lips before his could stop them, each one soft and almost afraid. "You... you don't think my parents... you don't think they miss me right?" he asked quietly, barely audible over the sound of the plane. "They probably don't. I hope they don't. That would suck... if they were looking for me and I ran away to England. I know they're not and I know I wouldn't ever be able to see them if they were but... I..."

The feeling passed him quickly, and Shiro returned to his senses. He blinked a little, as if awakening from a daze. "Sorry. Sorry. Ignore that. I don't know where that came from. I... I could care less about them. Just ignore that..."

"I'm sure that they miss you. I'm sure that they want to see you again and someday we'll do that. We can go back and we can meet them and... and we can try to fix everything," he said softly as he laced their fingers together, kissing his knuckles. "See, as poorly as it may have ended for your family," he pressed a kiss to his knuckles. "They're still your family. I'm sure they miss you and that they'd be happy to see you again sometime."

His head was still lying on his shoulder but his eyes fixed upon Shiro's face. "But if you don't want to talk to about it, we don't need to."

Shiro leaned back against the seat, relaxing. His stomach still felt sick, and his head a bit clouded with that strange, unfamiliar feeling of wanting to see his parents, but Shiro managed to soothe his system down into a fragile sort of calm. "I... it's just weird," he muttered. "I haven't missed my parents in years. I hated them, even. It just sorta hit me back at the hotel that I'm leaving New York and Keith and... and Adam... it all kinda makes me want my mom, you know? Like for at least a hug or something. Sorry. It's dumb."

He shook his head a little bit, and flicked his eyes to look out the window. They were flying so high he could barely see the lights of the city beneath the clouds. Shiro swallowed hard and looked back to his knees. His hand held on tightly to Lance's.

"It's natural."

"It'll pass," Shiro replied quickly— almost a beat too quick. "I'm just nervous because we're in the air and I'm kinda upset about leaving the city. My head is just confused. It'll pass. We don't have to talk about them. We can order some drinks and then take a six hour nap or something. We're good at that. Drinking and napping." He gave an empty laugh at his little joke, trying to force the atmosphere back to normal.

Lance watched him for a few moments, just nodding and silently turning his attention to his lap. He stayed close to Shiro, closing his eyes. Now seemed like a good time to go to sleep. Nap away the heavy atmosphere and wake up in however many hours. Then they'd abuse they money they were given to get alcohol and be giggly idiots until they fell asleep again. Well- that seemed to be how it was going to play out, anyway. It was how it usually went.

But Lance couldn't sleep. He tried and he tried but when he shifted or tried to get comfy, he just woke himself up. When he began to doze off, some slight noise would steal his attention and he'd be snapped out of his dazed state.

He eventually lay, curled up, on his side. His head lay on Shiro's lap, the bruise on his cheek only just noticeable by now, and traced small shapes on Shiro's thigh with his fingers. As silent as ever.

Shiro watched Lance toss and turn, playing with his hair by the time his boyfriend had settled down in his lap. Mindlessly toying with Lance's tousled locks helped him soothe his nerves — helped him distract his mind from the growling of the plane and the soft ache in his chest with all the talk about his parents. Shiro brushed Lance's hair one way, and then combed it the other way. He curled the freshly cut locks about his fingers and then brushed them all back.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" Shiro asked after about thirty minutes or so of comfortable silence. His ears were still popping, his head feeling heavy with pressure. He took his hand from Lance's hair, and instead moved it down to grace gentle circles about his neck with his knuckles. "I don't think I can sleep too well up here either."

"I've slept on planes before," he murmured dismissively. "So don't worry too much. But... I think sleeping on the journey here didn't really help," he mumbled as he looked at the ceiling. He didn't mind Shiro's fingertips brushing up and down along his skin. It was reassuring, in a way, to have Shiro here like this. The little teasing affection was overpoweringly soothing. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the sensation, trusting Shiro entirely.

"I'm sure we'll fall asleep sometime." Lance's words came more to reassure himself than to reassure Shiro. "So it's okay."

"Mm," Shiro hummed quietly, nodding his head. "I'm sure... but as of right now we're stuck in a couple of cushioned seats for six hours with nothing to do. My whole mini-freak-out session is over, mostly, and I'm feeling kinda bored..." A soft smirk tugged and curled at his lips. He continued to tickle about Lance's neck, sighing thoughtfully as he studied Lance's features.

An idea popped into Shiro's head as he looked down at Lance and Lance's twinkling eyes — the eyes he fell in love with. The eyes that saved him. "Tell me more about yourself," he murmured, cocking his head a little. "Like when you told Lotor and me about your bi awakening or whatever? I loved that. Hearing about you. What's something I don't know about you, huh? I still have a lot to learn, don't I?"

Lance moved to lie on his back a little, looking up at Shiro. "That's awfully sweet of you," he said as he closed his eyes. "Is there anything specific? Because, you know, I've been alive for quite a few years so it would be difficult to just pick one thing. I mean... what do you want to know about? Something... embarrassing or happy or sad... or- or what?" he asked, frowning a little as he closed his eyes. "I have a lot to talk about. Just give me a little direction while I choose something to discuss."

"Oh, embarrassing for sure," Shiro snickered. He gave a little laugh at the stare his response earned, and rolled his eyes a little. "At least tell me something cute. I love it when you get all blushy. That's some adorable shit right there." He laughed again and rolled his eyes a little. "Depending on how embarrassing you go, I might have to pay you back some time with some with one of my own. Not now of course. I'll give you an I.O.U., for safekeeping." Lance watched him for a few moments and sighed.

"All right... um..." he frowned, brows furrowing. He was going with embarrassing first, hopefully having some humiliating story that ended with some kind of sweetness to fit into both categories requested. Finally, he seemed to figure out what to say and he let out a groan, already embarrassed by the memory alone.

He took Shiro's hand again, sighing a little as he closed his eyes.

"One time, in college, I went to a party. It was like... halfway through my second semester, I think, and I was invited to this huge party. It was pretty fucking crazy. I mean- I'm pretty sure I saw people having sex and they weren't even in the bathrooms or trying to hide it. There was a whole corner for people smoking or snorting or whatever, and Pidge and I just stayed by the booze. I ended up drinking a little more than usual because this girl I really liked at the time- her name was Nyma- was daring me and betting me that I couldn't. I think my tolerance then was about twelve cups of beer and I went over it by... a shot of vodka. Followed by- uhh- a... a bottle. Like- a bottle or a half. I don't know, it was probably more. But- But the point was, I was shit-faced. I could barely even speak, I couldn't even walk in a straight fucking line, and I asked her out. You know, a whole drunk speech and I think I said that... that her eyes were good at seeing. I think. She was not digging it and she kinda... she kinda told me to fuck off but worse. Threw a drink on me, whatever."

He let his hand rest over his face, covering his eyes. His face was really quite red.

"We found an empty... like- I think it was a McDonalds. There was nobody at the drive-thru, it was like three in the morning. Pidge pulled up and asked me what I wanted and I heard the voice of whichever poor fucker was on the night shift, and I started telling them everything. Like- I started from the beginning. From when I'd started liking Nyma onwards. And after a few minutes of my rambling, Pidge covered my mouth, ordered something for me and drove off before I could begin to spiral and spout shit again. When we got to the window with our food, the dude who had been talking to me- he left something in with my sandwich. He left a little note to say that he hoped it got better soon or something similar, and then he'd given me an extra few chicken nuggets and I don't even know if I ordered chicken nuggets. So it was nice, and I think I started crying because of how much I appreciated it. All I know is that Pidge dropped me off back home and didn't go to another party with me for a year."

Shiro listened to him, his smile no leaving his face as the story went on. When he was done, Shiro let out a small little laugh, snickering to himself. "God," he muttered, laughing. "That's hilarious. Drunk stories are the best -- especially if you don't remember them."

He leaned back a little more, resting his head against the back cushion, no longer looking down at Lance. He moved his hand from Lance's neck up to his hair again to play with it. "Pidge..." he muttered quietly, testing out the name on his tongue. "That's an odd name. Sounds familiar though... Maybe you've mentioned her before... Pidge is one of your friends right?"

"Yeah, Pidge is her nickname. She used it as an alias or something, but it was a nickname from her brother, I think. Her name's actually Katie Holt, and her brother- Matt- went missing or something. I don't know too much about it, but she's a good friend and I liked being her coworker. Hopefully I'll see her again." He smiled a little, squeezing Shiro's hand. "But she was in I.T. and cybercrimes, so we were in different sections. We rarely saw each other and just ended up drifting apart."

He liked talking about this with Shiro. It didn't feel pressured or awkward or tense like it would with anyone else. He could freely talk to Shiro about anything and everything that bothered him or that he remembered. It was really relieving. As awkward or painful as some of the memories were- he was happy to remember and relive them.

Shiro's eyes widened. "Matt... Matt Holt?" he asked after a few moments of contemplative silence. "Shit. You're fucking with me right? Matt Holt was one of my highschool friends. We were study partners... wait so you know Katie? God! She'd sit by us while we studied! I taught her physics when we got bored!"

His voice was excited. Piqued with interest and enthusiasm. He hadn't quite processed what Lance had said about Matt going missing for a good few moments, his amusement for the simple little coincidence blocking out that negative feeling that jabbed at his gut at Lance's little statement. When he did recognize those words and their meaning, he let his brow furrow and his head cock a little bit. "Matt went missing?" he asked, curious. Confused. "When? We stopped talking a few months after highschool... he stopped replying to my texts sometime in the summer. Before my parents kicked me out."

Lance shrugged a little.  
"Uhh, Pidge said it was a few months after he'd gotten into college. A super high-tech sciencey one, too. She said he aced the tests and she wanted to go but when he just disappeared, she totally changed her mind about everything. Turned her attention to being part of the police force. A lot of people said she just wanted to find Matt and took matters into her own hands and yeah, it does sound like her. She basically lives off of caffeine and spends every spare moment revising over his case like some new evidence will just appear. Once, she'd come over to my house because she didn't feel safe at home and I expected her to just sit next to me while I binge shows on netflix. Instead, she made me watch them with headphones and just sat next to me to work on the case. She's toned it down a bit since then, but... you know, whatever. It's a pretty big deal."

Lance didn't let himself wonder about whether or not his disappearance had affected her like that. He didn't want to consider the possibility that she'd now had two people that she cared about disappear. She did mention, once or twice, that he was like a brother but... he shook away the thought. That didn't matter- he was with Shiro, he was going to focus on that, not on the fact that she might have spiraled more upon hearing about his disappearance.

Hopefully Hunk had told her something. He'd call her next time he got the chance.

Shiro furrowed his brow, and looked off to the side, frowning. "I wonder where he disappeared to..." he murmured, shaking his head a little. Of course, there was a sharp suspicion in his gut telling him it had to have been some mafia business... but Shiro decided to push the thought away. Linking it all with the mafia would have been an easy way to just blame it all on himself somehow... so he just tried to think about it another way. Think about it like a civilian would. "Never seemed like the guy to run away or anything. Sam and Colleen were nice, too. Nicer than my parents and nicer than Adam's. They would have let him live in their basement until he was forty. I even thought about asking them to let me live there when my parents kicked me out, but then I found Adam -- we were on a break and fell out of touch for a month or so beforehand after a stupid fight-- and moved in with him before I got the nerve to ask."

He gave a soft shrug and looked down at Lance. "If I knew anything about Matt it was that he was a fighter," he said, his fake hopefulness almost feeling real. "I'm sure he's alright. He probably just..." Shiro trailed off, and shook his head a little. "Yeah. I have no idea... hopefully he's just fine. Backpacking through Europe or some dumb shit like that. Hey! Maybe we'll even see him there." Shiro gave a little chuckle at his joke, nerves successfully settled with his vocalized denial. Lance just offered up a smile.

"Yeah, probably."

A few hours of idle chatter passed before tiredness began to set in. Blue had somehow wriggled from where she'd been lying to settle on Lance's chest, lying on top of him- giving Blue room to stretch her legs out and Lance another chair to lie on. Lance was stretched out over the row of chairs by now, his legs bunched up a little and his head on Shiro's lap. He was petting Blue, scratching behind her ear, closing his eyes as he lay there.

His eyes fixed on Shiro and he reached up with one hand, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him down a little. Just to get a better look at his face.

"You're super handsome," he murmured with a teasing smile. The glasses resting on the bridge of Shiro's nose were cute and, he noted, poorly fitted. They slipped down quite a bit when Shiro looked down, making his eyes look a little bigger. "I mean, not knockout handsome, but you're pretty fucking cute," he continued, still smiling. "Passable, definitely, but y'know. I don't know where exactly I'd put you on a scale from one to ten. Somewhere between a six and a nine, though. But your boyfriend? Damn, he's a killer. You're lucky, in all honesty."

Shiro gave a little snort, cocking his head a little. "Well jeez, Lance," he hummed, smirking. Shiro didn't quite understand was Lance was getting at, but he snickered nonetheless. "I know I've got a killer boyfriend and all, but only a six through nine? That hurts my feelings." Lance's eyes seemed to finally focus on Shiro, and he laughed a little.

"What? No, no, I can see my reflection in your glasses," he said with a small but genuine smile. "I can't help it if I've got the sexiest boyfriend ever and I can see my own reflection when I look into his eyes. I'm like a cockatiel, babe. I'm easily distracted by my own, clearly gorgeous, reflection." He pushed himself up- ignoring the tired growl of the sleeping dog on his chest- and pressed a short kiss to Shiro's lips. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm the one with a killer boyfriend. You have to settle for someone between a six and a nine."

Blushing a little, Shiro let out a little laugh. "God. You're crazy," he muttered, shaking his head. "We're both obvious tens, you dork." Shiro leaned down pressed three short but tender kisses to Lance's lips- all of which were eagerly returned. "Have you seen us? We fuckin' kill it."

"Definitely," Lance said, pulling his hand back, his eyes fluttering closed. It might have been the warmth of the dog on his chest or the ambient noise of the plane's engine, or just being so close to Shiro, but he suddenly felt exhausted. "I think we should catch up on our sleep for now," he mumbled. "Sorry for stealing all of the legroom. And that I'll be the one lying down. I guess you'll just have to sacrifice comfort for your prince charming, huh?"

Shiro smiled fondly down at him, nodding a little. "Oh yeah. Anything for my prince," he murmured, reaching a hand down to Lance's face, cupping his cheek. "Sleep kinda sounds great... if I can of course. We'll figure it out, hm?"

He leaned back in his chair, and brought his free up to his glasses, slipping them off his face and closing the arms. He set them in the pocket on the seat before him, and then leaned his head to the side, looking out the dark window. Shiro could only see the wing of the plane in the darkness of the night, the metallic structure dimly lit by the white and red warning lights. Shiro watched them blink for a bit, eyes growing heavier and heavier as the minutes dragged on. He had already felt Lance's face and head fall slack, listless against his cradling hand. Shiro listened to and felt the quiet breaths of Lance in deep sleep on top of him, letting the even sighs become a metronome to his own. In no time was his head pressed against the side of the plane, nose just brushing against the cool surface of the window as he sagged in his seat, eyes closed, mind foggy. The lights still flashed, and the engine still rumbled, and the plane still shook and vibrated with long and unexpected intervals, but Shiro had forgotten about it all. He focused on Lance's breath, and then simply fell into his own deep, relaxed sleep.

The first one awake was Lance. The plane had jostled at some point and it had shaken Lance awake. He tensed as he awoke, sitting up- taking a few moments to process that he was just on a plane and that there wasn't some kind of an earthquake. He sighed, covering his face as he lay back down on Shiro's lap. Some dream he'd been having. Not quite a nightmare, but definitely influenced by the shrieking child a few rows ahead of them and the bumpiness of the plane. He sat up and began to nudge Shiro awake, pressing a few kisses to his jaw.

"Hey, handsome? Shiro? Shiro, babe? Hey, wake up. Wake up~ Come on, Shiro," he began to pester, pressing a kiss between each pet name. "Come on~! Shiro! Baby, handsome, come on. Wake up." And, finally, Shiro stirred. Lance pressed a few more kisses to his jaw and then one to his lips. "We have alcohol privileges, and we have money to waste, so let's start buying stuff. Yeah?"

Shiro fluttered his eyes open, leaning up off of the window with a soft sigh, his system feeling incredibly slow. Incredibly groggy. He registered the kisses upon his jaw and then the one to his lips after a moment or so of tired thoughtlessness, and pressed a lazy kiss to Lance's temple in his feeble attempt of showing his sleepy affection. "Hey," he murmured, voice tired and drawn out. He hadn't really been listening to Lance before... he didn't quite know what was going on as he sat there, eyes half closed, one hand embarrassedly wiping some crusted drool from his chin. The plane jostled a little, and Shiro felt a dim feeling of fear in his chest. "Are we here or something? We're not crashing, are we? That would suck..."

"Yeah, Shiro. We're going down in a flaming blaze and my first reaction was to kiss you awake. And I think that saying it would 'suck' to crash is a little bit of an understatement." He shifted a little, sitting up. Blue let out tired growls as she was moved from his chest to his lap, before settling in her new spot without complaint. She never usually growled, so the drugs were having quite the effect on her.

"Would you rather me say that it would 'fucking suck'?" Shiro asked sleepily. Despite his joking, he trailed his nervous gaze to the window at the next bumping of turbulence.

Lance settled against Shiro's shoulder, leaning against him, closing his eyes. "Don't fuss. We're okay. Look-" he pointed at the screen in front of them, affixed to the back of someones seat. They'd not chosen a film, so the screen was on standby and displaying a cartoon map and plane. They were still crossing the ocean. "We're over halfway there now. So, come on, let's do something. Watch a film and get drunk or whatever." He leant up, shooting a glance over at where Romelle had been sitting before. She was slumped against the wall of the plane, leant on her hand, sleeping. So much for supervising. He turned his attention back to Shiro. "Well? What do you say?"

Shiro made a face at the idea they had been crossing over an ocean -- feeling a bit more trapped and a bit more vulnerable at the idea -- but nodded his head, waking up a bit more. "Drinking sounds... perfect," he hummed, lifting a hand to rub at his ears. They were popping wildly, each time bringing him just a bit closer a pounding migraine. "Some water too. This pressure is giving me a Goddamn headache..." Shiro trailed off and shook his head a little. "Let's get a little drunk. It'll probably make me feel better, huh? Order some drinks, get tipsy, and then put on some of that Disney shit you love."

He slung his arm over Lance's shoulder, pulling him close to his chest. Shiro was still a little tired, and his head was close to aching. The clinginess took over his common sense of personal space, and Shiro let himself get close and needy, tilting his head onto Lance's, hugging Lance a little tighter with a whiny sort of sigh as his boyfriend waved over one of the flight attendants.

She came over, smiling warmly at the pair.

"Yes, what can I get for you?" she asked, looking between them. Lance had picked up the menu and was flicking through it. He wasn't exactly sure what to get.

"Could we have two bottles of water," he began, showing Shiro the array of alcohol that they had available. "And two glasses of whiskey? Shiro, what would you like for snacks?" he asked, looking over at him. "Because I'm feeling a little bit peckish and we didn't bring any food with us."

 

The attendant glanced at Shiro, noting down their orders, smiling warmly. "I can go get you your drinks and come back when you've decided what to eat?" she asked, and after a glance at his boyfriend Lance nodded.

"Of course! Thank you." He picked up one of his carry-ons, noting the smallest pocket wasn't zipped up fully. Opening it, he could the money that they were permitted. He dug it out, smiling, pressing closer to Shiro. "Is two whiskeys enough for my alcoholic boyfriend?" he teased, pressing a few kisses along his jaw again. "You did say you only wanted to get tipsy, but I can't tell if you'd need one whiskey or eleven."

"That's enough. For now," Shiro answered in a teasing sort of tone. The attendant laughed, nodded, and then walked away towards the cockpit. Shiro turned to Lance, and grinned a little, leaning forward to kiss him. Everything he said was in between tired kisses, his lips slow and tender as he spoke against Lance's own in his sleepy, joking tone. "Do you have to go and tell everyone I'm an alcoholic now? She's gonna think I'm a mess. If the bruises and the scars and the white hair couldn't give it away before."

"What, and leave you too desirable? You've already flirted with waitress at a cafe, and I can't risk having you flirt with a hostess!"

Shiro stopped kissing Lance, and instead pressed their foreheads together. Their noses touched. Shiro blushed a bit happily at the contact. The attendant returned after a few moments of snuggling and kisses, and stood beside them with an awkward smile on her face. She offered forward the bottles and two whiskey glasses to Lance, inciting a soft whine from Shiro when his boyfriend had leaned away. He watched as Lance poured the glasses, and took his own with an excited hand. He hoped it would taste good... oh of course it would. Expensive plane alcohol had to taste good.

Lance clinked their glasses together, murmuring a soft 'cheers' before bringing it to his lips. He took a sip, the alcohol strong on his tongue and burning pleasantly as it slid down his throat. He had an empty stomach so this would go straight to his head but, god, it was worth it. It left a slight tingling down his throat as he took another sip, wanting to drink as much of it as he could as quickly as he could but it was more of a sipping whiskey and definitely shouldn't be drunk like a shot.

"Did you choose what to eat?" he asked Shiro, taking another sip of his drink, wanting to have more of it even if he knew he should be pacing himself and should wait until after he had eaten to drink much more.

Shiro's eyes had been trailing down the menu just as Lance had asked his question, half of his whiskey already in his system, pleasantly burning his chest. He flicked his eyes up at Lance, and rose his shoulders a little bit. "I was thinking about the cheese platter, the one right here-" he paused to point at the menu. "Something soft on my stomach. Cheese also goes good with whiskey." Shiro look one long sip, draining the rest of it in one gulp. Oh, how wonderful the taste was. How wonderful the burn was. Shiro licked his lips, and groped for the bottle again, going for another glass. Lance had nodded, showing it to the hostess who disappeared shortly.

The new glass in his hand, he used the other to tap about the screen in front of him, browsing through movie options. "What movie are you thinkin' about? They've got a bunch..."

"You said something Disney," he said as he shifted closer, reaching over to the screen and starting to flick through the available options. "What did we last watch? It was Moana, right? And we've seen Cinderella. What do you want to watch? You can choose one this time. Any of them- I like all of them. But I think Tangled would be to your tastes- I mean, you're pretty similar to Flynn."

Lance settled down, smiling fondly as he finished the rest of the glass of whiskey in his hand. "What do you think?" He snuggled up to Shiro a little more, still petting Blue. Despite the slight turbulence of the plane, there wasn't really an issue with the flight. It was nice to be somewhere like here, with Shiro, and able to relax. Watching films and soon-to-be snacking on a cheese platter and drinking whiskey. Living a fucking life and a half.

Shiro grinned at him. "Well, now I'm curious about this Flynn character," he hummed, already tapping on the movie Lance had suggested. He pulled out the headphones, plugging two pairs into one adapter, and then plugged the adapter into the screen. He passed Lance one set, and plugged his own into his ears, holding back from starting the film until the hostess had arrived with the cheese. She had, and Shiro set the platter on his lap, both of them thanking the attendan before she moved off. Shiro instantly began to dine on those expensive, piquant tasting cheeses, loving the flavor as it spread about his tongue. Enjoying the tastes, and giggling when Lance got onto him about hogging the cheese, Shiro pressed play and started the movie.

There wasn't much to say aside from the fact that Shiro fell in love with the movie almost instantly. He laughed at the jokes. He became absorbed in the plot. He gasped when Flynn was stabbed and he forcefully held back any sort of tears when he was brought back to life. They didn't talk much through the duration of the film -- Shiro was too interested and the both of them were too tired. When it ended though, Shiro pulled his headphones out, and turned to Lance. He was fairly tipsy by then, and all of the cheese had been gone -- the empty platter set aside on Blue's seat.

"Good choice," he said in a hum. "I loved that. Caught me by surprise... kind of dark for Disney, don't you think?"

"Yeah, a little," he said as he shifted closer. Lance's eyes were red and a little puffy, residue from his tears around his eyes. While Shiro hadn't let himself cry, Lance wasn't quite so in control of his emotions, and the second that Flynn had been stabbed (despite knowing how the film would end) he had burst into tears and clutched Shiro's hand.

Right now, though, he wasn't crying. He was curled up, still clinging to Shiro like his life depended on it, but feeling a lot better. He smiled a little. "I enjoyed watching it with you, though. I don't know when I last watched the film. And you definitely remind me of Flynn. Fighting a whole army of men with swords using only a frying pan? That's very in character for you." He pressed a light little kiss to Shiro's jaw, leaning against his shoulder again and getting comfy. "But Disney does have some surprisingly dark moments in it's films. A lot of characters die. In Beauty and the Beast, one of the characters has skulls reflected in his eyes for half a second before falling to his death- just to clarify that there isn't a chance he'll survive. It's surprisingly dark."

"Hardcore," Shiro said in an awed slur, drinking back the rest of his glass. He set the empty glass down, through with drinking for a bit. He leaned back in his seat and snuggled closer to Lance -- pulling him in tighter with his arm, desperate for his touch. Shiro's whole system was warm with his buzz. He felt comfortable, even if his head still faintly ached from the pressure. It was... nice. He gave a soft sigh, and turned his head towards Lance's, pressing their foreheads together. "We gotta watch every one. Every single one. That's like... gotta happen in our new house... our new house..." Shiro trailed off and looked at one of the screens, jabbing his finger in the one in front of Lance's seat. The plane had nearly arrived on land... and it was getting there fast.

"God. We're so close, Lance. We're almost there," he murmured, inawed. "What time is it here? What time is it back at home? Lotor told me it was like five hours ahead. Jesus, we're gonna be in our new house soon! It... it almost doesn't even feel real..." Lance took ahold of Shiro's hand, intertwining their fingers, smiling warmly and leaning against him.

"I'm excited," he said softly. "I'm so excited. We can develop it into a proper home. Whatever house we get, even if it's the shittiest place I've ever seen, we'll make it a home." He leant up, pressing a kiss to Shiro's cheek and leaning against him. "I love you. And- And I can't want to be able to watch Disney films every single day, curled up under piles of blankets, everything. I can't wait. I love you so much."

The excitement sent little waves of giddiness through Lance's system. He could barely believe that this was happening- it had been his dream for a while but it was only ever a thought. A little curiosity and desire for a life he didn't yet have. What was he going to dream of when he found his life with Shiro? He ran his fingers through Shiro's hair, leaning over and pecking his lips yet again. "Dreams are coming true over here, sweetheart."

"Indeed they are," Shiro hummed, kissing Lance back. "I love you too, baby. We're gonna fuckin' kill it as librarians... or whatever the hell we're gonna be." He gave a little laugh, turning his head to the side as he giggled. "I'm going from a Galran Mafia drug lord to a librarian. Hell, a part-time librarian between jobs. A crazy little glow up, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely. And you wouldn't be a librarian, just a shopkeep." He leant in, pressing a kiss to his jaw and smiling as he closed his eyes. "Okay?"

Shiro nodded at him, eyes soft and twinkling with fondness. "Yeah," he said softly. "Still kinda mind boggling, though. I never... never thought I'd end up in a job so... so safe you know? So easy compared to... you know. Murder and stuff..." Shiro trailed off a little, looking off to the side. A nervous flutter, mostly inspired by his buzz of course, sparked about in his stomach.

"Do you... do you think I can do it?" he asked quietly, rising his shoulders. "I'm not exactly a 'domestic working man' type of guy... what if I mess up something? I... I mess up a lot of things..."

"No, no, don't think like that." He sat up properly. "Don't you dare think like that. This isn't a situation for you to mess up, doll. You're perfect. You're going to do wonderfully and I'm going to help you to settle in." A soft ding and the seatbelt light came on. A flight attendant announced that they were beginning their descent, so they were suspending their in-flight services and must all be sat down. Lance smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Shiro's neck. "Don't worry about it. The more you worry, the more miserable you'll be. Just relax." He settled into Shiro's neck, pressing a kiss to his skin and relaxing against him. "I love you."

"I love you too, kitten..." Shiro murmured, reaching a hand up to the back of Lance's head, pushing his fingers up through the buzzed hair of his undercut. "Go... go ahead and put your seatbelt on, baby. I'll be okay. Last... last minute jitters I think. And I'm kinda drunk. Haha..."

Once Lance had leaned off of him, he clipped on his seatbelt, hands finding the armrests and holding them a bit tightly as the pressure began to shift. His left hand, of course, met Lance's after a few moments, and clung onto him instead. Shiro bit back a sickened groan as the plane made its drastic descent, wondering if getting drunk was the best idea for his stomach as the pressure shifted and the gravity changed. The landing took about as long as the take off — and felt about the same too. There was a mighty growl from beneath the plane's underbelly as the tires extended from their hidden shafts, and then a screech of hard rubber and smooth concrete once the plane made its jolting stop upon the land. It thumped, and then rattled, blazing on down the runway until it slowed itself out. The whole time Shiro held on rather tightly to Lance's hand, eyes watching the window and the new world around them.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the furthest horizon. It was already morning there. It made Shiro's sick, tipsy mind spin a bit.

It took awhile for the plane to stop. It took even longer before the passengers could unload. The passengers waited until the two attendants thanked them for riding with whatever airlines they had chosen, and began to move all together, standing to reach for their carry-on bags above them. Shiro leaned over to Lance, releasing his death grip on the other arm rest. His hold on Lance's hand remained steady, of course.

"That sucked," he muttered, grumbled tone groggy and whined. "I might be a little too drunk. I feel like puking..." Lance smiled warmly, kissing his neck.

"Yeah, maybe," he said sweetly. He'd had less to drink than Shiro by a glass or two.

"Hey, sweetheart, let's go. We need to go. We can get you to a toilet soon if you need to be sick," he said sweetly as he ran his fingers through his hair and kissed his nose.

He began to lead him away, holding his hand, when they had their stuff. Blue was still heavily drugged so he had to carry her in both arms while Shiro took the bags and Black's cage. Blue let out a tired whine, incredibly heavy in Lance's arms but he carried her like she weighed nothing. The trudging to the airport took a while. There was the ordeal of the passports, followed closely by the interrogation about Shiro's- Kuron's- prescribed weed. After that, it was simple. Romelle met with them when they left the bathrooms (Shiro did need to vomit) and handed them any papers they hadn't picked up, giving them a sheet with their address on and the money needed for a bus service to get there. It was about three hours away by bus, and the roads would be mostly traffic-free, so they had nothing to worry about.

"I'll return on the next plane back," she told them. "When I'm sure that the two of you have gotten on the right bus."

"Thanks, Romelle," Shiro said weakly, the bags set down by his feet as he struggled to open up a water bottle. His mouth still tasted of vomit — it made his head feel a little light. He pulled open the cap, and took a long gulp of water, hoping to settle his stomach and that nasty taste in the back of his throat. He stuffed the water bottle in his jacket pocket, and leaned down to scoop up the bags and Black's cage again. "Thanks again for the escort I guess. Traveling a near sixteen hours on an airplane can't be any fun at all."

Romelle shrugged a little. "Anything for Allura's friends, I suppose," she said with a tired sweetness. "I would like to say it was a pleasure meeting both of you... even if plenty of the situations were a little... tense."

Shiro laughed. "Tense is an understatement," he sighed, slumping a little. "This week and a half was kinda crazy. But... we're here now." Shiro paused to look around a little. "Huh. I thought it would like... smell different or something. Those accents though, am I right." He elbowed Lance a little, a soft laugh in his words.

"Yeah, we're going to have to get used to that," he replied teasingly, a smile on his lips. "Come on, let's go find a bus so we can get out of Romelle's hair."

He leant up and kissed Shiro's cheek, beginning to lead him to the luggage collection area, where he began gathering their bags. Romelle directed them to the nearest bus stop and pointed out the schedules, telling them exactly which bus they would need to get on, where would be safest to sit, which stop they needed to get off on. She'd scribbled down the name and number of a taxi service by their address so they knew who to call from the bus stop. After exchanging short goodbyes and 'good lucks', Lance settled down at the bus stop with Shiro. The bus stops here were different to in America. The benches, for example, were only small slabs fixed diagonally to the walls of the structure. They were about the size of Lance's palm, and you were meant to lean against them. You couldn't sit on them. So, instead, Lance just settled for being leant against the slab-bench and his boyfriend, holding Shiro's hand idly. Their bus was the next one to arrive and from there, the journey was a couple of hours.

After that journey, though, Lance felt too tired to talk during the ride. He just wanted to get back, find out what their house would be like, and begin figuring out how to decorate it.

Shiro felt about the same on sitting on the bus for those couple hours. He let Lance have the window seat that time, but in return Lance let Shiro lean against his shoulder. Shiro wrapped his arm around Lance's waist, and leaned into him for the duration of the ride, his aching head resting upon Lance's shoulder as they bumped along the roads of England. The sun seemed to have risen all the way, but it was blocked out by greyed rain clouds. The windows ticked and prickled with raindrops as they sprinkled down onto the bus. Shiro listened to it, letting the sounds lure him into another sleep. Lance was warm against him as he drifted off. It felt nice. It felt like home...

He fell into the kind of sleep that feels as though it only lasts mere seconds. Shiro simply slipped his eyes close, let his conscious melt for a few moments, and then he was jostled awake by Lance's prodding hand. In reality he'd been asleep for a full three hours, but it felt like a simple minute in a half when he fluttered his sleepy eyes open to look at the grinning face of Lance.

Shiro gave Lance a smile, and then looked around. The bus had stopped. The doors had been open, and in poured two or three folks dressed for work somewhere else. Shiro turned his gaze out into an emptier sort of bus stop — no city graffiti or overflowing trash cans of the sort. The grass beside the strange little bus stop was green and healthy. The sidewalks were old and cracked, but they were clean. Shiro studied it for a moment before he turned back to Lance, who had been standing in the isle, unloading their baggage from the overhead cubby.

"Holy shit," Shiro murmured. "Are we here? Is this our town?"

"No, I just wanted to wake you up because I like to inconvenience you." He pecked Shiro's lips. "Yeah, it's our stop, let's go."

They took a few moments longer than convenient to get all of their stuff and get Blue held in Lance's arms so that they could leave. Lance saw a convenience store and, to save a little money, asked how to get to their street-to-be while Blue lay on the floor outside with her leash tied around a sign. When he finally wrapped his head around the directions he was given (go back the same way that they came, straight down until Prince Avenue, then take a right and the next left), he turned to Shiro. "Let's spend a little of that taxi money on a snack to keep us going?" he asked, going over to look at what there was to eat. They could get a chocolate bar or some chips- crisps? He turned to Shiro. "What are you in the mood for, handsome?"

Shiro had been morosing about the chocolate aisle when Lance had spoken to him, his eyes flicking up from all the strange candies and treats he'd observing. "Don't they got those, uh, chocolate egg thingies here? The ones that are illegal in America?" he asked in a hum, turning his eyes back to the shelves. Shiro's gaze caught upon a basket of Kinder Eggs and his memory sparked. He reached forward, and grabbed a handful. "Hell yeah. Let's break a law without actually breaking a law."

"Makes a nice difference from your usual actually illegal behaviour," his boyfriend teased as he pecked his lips.

He picked out a good handful of other things, only one of which being something he recognized from America. Shiro brought it all up to the counter beside Lance, and placed down a few energy drinks there as well — just a bit bitter at the fact there was no Gatorade. Shiro looked at Lance, who gave him a judging sort of smirk.

"That'll hold us over," Shiro joked. "I'm sure there's no food at the house yet. We'll have to go back out and find like... well they don't have a Walmart so like the British equivalent I guess."

"Yeah, I guess so," he said as he held a little tighter to his hand. "We can do that when we're settled. We need to get a car sometime, too, and we don't have a credit card or anything. We- We really need to get our shit sorted out, don't we?" he asked, frowning. There was so much that they had to do before they could even begin to get comfy- before they could start getting clothes and stuff, they'd need to pay money into a bank account and they'd need to get ready for everything and- ugh. There was so much to do.

Shiro shook his head a little. "No we have cards 'n shit," he said in a reassuring sort of tone. "Romelle handled that. She's got our bank account set up too. We just have to link everything up on the phone or at the bank. We also need to set our new phones... it's all in my bag I think. Romelle left a list of instructions."

His eyes flicked to the guy at the cash register, who was watching them with a look of curious interest. Shiro shot him a nervous smile, pushing their items across the counter. "Let's just, uh, check out and talk about this later. During the walk," he said with a soft little chuckle.

They checked out. Their candy was put into a bag that Shiro held in his already very fully hands, awkwardly attempting to unwrap one of his Kinder Eggs with all the bags on his back and in his hands. Most were slung over his mechanical wrist, almost like a hanger as it floated beside him. He held Black's crate in his left hand, though, and held their candy bag in the other, so it was fairly difficult to get that egg from its foil wrapping. He managed to get it out, however, and was soon chowing down on the mythical candy he'd never tried before, admiring the toy that came with it with a dull curiosity.

"So what's the whoop with these things anyways?" he asked through a mouthful of chocolate, walking beside Lance as his boyfriend lead the way. "They're good but not like so good you have to make them illegal."

"Dunno," Lance said as he held his dog in both hands, unable to even try one yet due to the lump in his arms. "I'll find out whenever my dog stops being so heavy and needing to be carried with both arms," he muttered, smiling a little as he looked back at Shiro. "So he'd said it was about a fifteen minute walk- We'll be there in no time. I'm excited. I don't know what it's going to look like, but I'm excited."

Shiro grinned at him, swallowing back the rest of his candy with one hard gulp. He tucked the empty wrapping and the little toy back into the candy bag, moving closer to Lance. Their arms brushed, and Shiro found himself wanting to hold Lance's hand more than ever... however, he figured he'd have to settle for something else. He leaned in and kissed Lance's temple as they walked, pressing their shoulders together.

"What do you think it's gonna look like?" he asked, trying to kiss Lance again. It was kind of a hard thing to do while they were walking. Even harder with each of them being so overwhelmed with their baggage. He was successful, but still stumbled a bit after his kiss to Lance's cheek. He was shot a look, but he shrugged it off with a smirk, and regained his footing, drifting close again. "Pretty? Ugly? Pretty ugly? Maybe cozy? I've never lived in a cozy place before. Always wondered what it was like. Oh, I hope this place is cozy..."

"Yeah," Lance said softly. "No matter what it looks like when we get there, it'll be our home. It'll be a cozy little house for us in no time. Trust me, Shiro. Even if this house is horrible, it will be our home and... and I can't wait."


	39. The Bookstore

The bookstore was... pretty shit. In all honesty, it was what Lance had expected but it still looked miserable. The dull ivory paint along the walls was chipped, peeling away. Even from the exterior alone, it was clear that the shop wasn't in any condition to be opened anytime soon. The first things they needed- a shit ton of paint, a sign for the door (there was still the blackened stains of the last letters that had been hung up there, though they were so smeared with rain that it was barely intelligible) and to replace the glass in the windows. They weren't broken, not quite, but they were damaged and cracked for unknown reasons. Posters had been stuck up on the windows and Lance decidedly tore them down, scrunching it up and putting it in the outdoor bin.

He dug around and took out the note Romelle had left. The keys were underneath an outdoor plant, and Lance had to put Blue down to lift the plant pot and take out the keys. He unlocked the door, tucked the keys into his pocket, and took Blue into his arms again before starting inside. It was dark inside. Damp, dank, and cobwebs littered the walls- Lance didn't care too much about spiders. He was constantly rescuing siblings from spiders that snuck into rooms or hid behind shampoo bottles in the bathroom. Shiro, however, seemed a little less keen of them. Scratch all other ideas- the first plan was to get a vacuum and eradicate all spiders and cobwebs in the room.

There were shelves already here. Affixed on rusted metal wheels that didn't move when Lance put all his weight against them. They'd need to go soon- swapping the wheels wouldn't be enough, the structure of the shelves seemed so overwhelmingly damaged. Evidently, whoever had been selling this shithole had moved out and that was that. They'd put the house on the market and left it as it was. It wasn't an appealing property but it must have been decently within budget and worth the money it cost. Sure, it could cost a lot to renovate, but it would be worth it. He turned back to Shiro.  
"First things first, we need to check out upstairs and find out what our first course of action will be. I think we need to clean up everything before we begin moving stuff around." He reached over and flicked on the lights. They flickered and let out a low electric hum before lighting up, illuminating the room with a dull yellow glow.

Now... the place wasn't too bad. Not horrible, anyway. The structure was stable, the walls weren't as poorly painted inside as they were inside, and the floorboards didn't even creak under Lance's feet. He was already imagining how they could change this room, all the ways it could be redecorated. He wanted a new carpet, to repaint the walls, he wanted to have the shelves replaced with new, cleaner ones. The door was to the left at the front and the desk was dead centre at the back. To the left was a corner that had the stairs to the second floor, their bedrooms. On the right was the door to storage. Lance moved a little further inside.

"It has potential," he said sweetly as he glanced back at Shiro. He was being optimistic about this. "What do you think? I'm thinking blue carpet or white wooden floorboards, walls blue and purple. Ivory shelving- we should replace all of these individual units and repaint the ones in the wall. The windows should be fixed first, the interior needs to be heavily cleaned and we should hope that there isn't a nest or something somewhere. I think we should get a new door, too- at least a new lock, at the minimum, and..." he hummed a little. "New lights, too. This has a high ceiling, so we could have any lights that we find interesting. Does this sound like a good idea?"

He had such a creative way of thinking. He saw this barren shithole of a house and imagined it as a full bookstore, with colourful walls and floors and full of life and energy. He stood in a shithole, worn down by weather and lacking care, and saw it as a blank canvas.

"Today we'll clean everything up. But first, we need to get a good look upstairs."

Shiro's eyes had been running up and down the walls, his attention focused on the skittering black spots that moved in and out of the shadows. There wasn't too many of them, of course, but Shiro's mind whispered to him otherwise. The sight of one spider caused about two or three more to appear in his sleepy, jetlagged mind -- the nape of his neck tickling, as well as the small of his back. He snapped his attention back to Lance at that last address, reaching up a hand to brush at his neck. "Hah... yeah, yeah," he said, nodding. Shiro swallowed hard, and flicked his eyes back and forth. Shiro didn't quite want to set the bags down due to the threat of those particularly creepy crawlers, but his arm was tired, and he didn't still feel balanced enough to walk upstairs with them. He placed the bags down and hurried up to Lance's side, reaching up to hold his shirt sleeve like some scared child.

"Cleaning out the spiders is definitely our top priority," he muttered to him, casting a glance back to Black's cage. "That is really gonna be a problem."

Lance and Shiro strode upstairs. The staircase was spiraled, which Lance hadn't expected, and he slowly made his way upstairs. He ducked away from spiderwebs and constantly checked his hair to make sure he didn't have a stowaway hiding in his new haircut. He slowly made his way upstairs. The door at the top of the stairs had no lock- just a small hole where a lock should be. That was an immediate issue- they'd need to get a new lock fitted. The top floor was large, vast. Just one room, almost- aside from the large bathroom tucked away into one corner. There was a shitty couch in one corner, opposite a television stand without a TV. Opposite it was a bed frame without a mattress, and just down the room from them was the kitchen- a section with tiled flooring and walls and suspiciously cheap equipment. The windows in here were large and looked good, but they were dirty and needed a damn good cleaning. Suddenly, it was good that Lance often helped out at home- he could clean this up without too much difficulty. God knows how many of his siblings he had looked after from the ages of 0-13. He could deal with a little unpleasantness.

Lance glanced around. He had a lot to work with, he was going to leave it at that.

"And, uh, thoughts on this?" he asked as he glanced back at his boyfriend. He moved to the couch and set her on the floor. He shook off a blanket, getting off as much dust as possible before picking up Blue and settling her down on the blanket that he had placed atop of the couch.

Shiro frowned a little, opened his mouth to respond, but found himself cut off by a sneeze which was followed by a soft 'bless you' from Lance. He shook his head, coughed a bit, and lifted a hand to his nose. "We should open a window," he grumbled weakly, scanning the darker walls. Shiro moved over to a larger, older fashioned sort of window with heavy framing, the paint chipped down to raw wood a bit too damp for Shiro's nose.

He turned his head and sneezed a again, before settling both his hands beneath the window handles and pulling upwards. There was a screech from the rusted old window, and it only jutted up about an inch or so. It took a great deal of strength from Shiro's end to push it even half way -- he ended up leaving it a little bit over that, leaning back and panting from the work. Shiro shook his head, and coughed into his arm, using the other hand to wave away some of the dust he had stirred. There was one more sneeze, another shake of his head, and a final cough before Shiro spoke again, his voice a little dry.

"Dust is a big problem," he said, sniffling. Shiro looked to Lance and gave a weak smile. "Might be a little bit allergic to it."

Shiro turned and took a long sniff of the fresh air that poured in through the open window, leaning into it. The air smelled cleaner. Tasted cleaner, even. It had been awhile since he got out of the city air... each smell and each breath were all refreshingly exciting. Even with the occasional whiff of wood rot and dust mites that made his eyes water. "God..." he murmured after a moment or so. "Smells so nice here, though. There's no garbage..."

"It is pretty nice," Lance murmured as he approached, wrapping his arms around Shiro's waist from behind and looking over at him. "It feels weird to be here. It hasn't really processed yet. Come on, come on, let's- let's get some energy and then we can go out to get cleaning supplies. I don't know if there are any here and if there are... I wouldn't trust that."

He pulled back after a moment and opened a few cupboards (soon having to usher Shiro away from the window so he could get rid of a spider the size of the palm of his hand) before taking out a packet of bin bags and some bleach.

"This should be alright for now. I'll let the bleach settle in the sinks, bathtub or shower, and toilet for now. Or would you like to do that so you don't end up finding any spiders while I start throwing stuff into the trash?" he asked, holding out the bleach in one hand and the bin bags in the other for Shiro to pick which he wanted to do. "Or, better yet, you can go wandering for somewhere to get the cleaning supplies we need. Unless you want to do that together?"

Shiro thought about it for a moment. Collecting trash was an easy no... and as much as he wanted to explore their house and especially the bathrooms -- the hope for a big bathtub still sat presently in his mind -- the threat of sneezing and spiders turned him off the idea. He rose his shoulders a bit. "I guess I could go exploring for cleaning supplies," he said, reaching up to rub his neck again. "I'm loving the fresh air so... I guess I could go get used to that."

"Make sure you come back soon, though, babe- there might not be any energy drinks left when you get back!"

"Oh, the horror," Shiro chuckled, moving to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll set up my... Kuron's card on the way so I can just pay. See you when I get back, babe."

He then moved to the staircase, nervously casting his gaze down the spiraling structure. Shiro lifted his hand to the banister, shook it a little in reassurance, and proceeded to step down it, ever so cautious. He got to the bags he left lazily in the middle of the floor, plucked out Kuron's card and Kuron's phone. Shiro then pinched open the lock and Black's crate, making sure to call up to Lance to tell him he was letting her out. Black didn't move from her shadowy crate, and instead looked at him with those groggy eyes of her. He smiled, cooed a quiet goodbye, and stood, holding down the power button to start up his new phone for the very first time. Romelle had it fully charged when she had shut it off, so it seemed in pretty good shape for an outing. With a final call to Lance, Shiro slipped out that creaky front door, and descended down the dangerously squeaky steps of their porch.

Shiro moved a bit slowly despite Lance's warning. He was tired. And overwhelmed. Shiro worked on his phone for a bit as he morosed forward on the cracked pavement of the town, only flicking his eyes up and around to observe the many buildings he would pass. It wasn't a cityscape, of course, but it was nice and flowing and busy enough for Shiro's previously nervous standards. When he was told a small library in the middle of nowhere in England, he'd been expecting acres of farmland and secluded weirdos and all the sorts of stuff a city man like him would fear... but it was a quaint little suburbian-country town. It's small, two laned street was lined with old, cozy looking sidewalks, which were lined by older, cozier looking shops and houses of all kinds. Most shops were the classic sorts of mom-and-pop-shops. Shiro could tell that in a quick instant. There was a barber shop and a farmers market and even a little bakery set up with open windows and wonderful smelling breads and cakes. Shiro almost had to take a detour for that one.

He made his way down the main road of their new town, eying everything in sight as he placed the finishing touches on his phone's settings. Shiro didn't see any signs for cleaning supplies. No homemade dust spray or anything like that. He was growing despondent after awhile, tiredly figuring it would just be best to turn back and help out Lance some at the new house. His new phone had been stuffed back into his pocket, ready to go. He figured he would link up his card to his account when he got to some sort of stopping point... but there weren't many points good enough for stopping. Shiro rolled his eyes after awhile, spotting a bench outside of some little ice cream shop. He have a long sigh, turned on his heel, and settled down into it, slumping back against the backrest.

"Oh! You're new!"

Shiro lifted his head from his new phone, pulled out to try and distract himself for awhile, and turned to look behind him. Two men stood side by side in the doorway, linked arm in arm. One had long hair all the way to his shoulders, combed and styled neatly back. The other was much shorter, with a much rounder face and a beanie pulled low over his hair . The one with the long hair had an apron around his waist and chest, the logo from the ice cream shops sign -- "Gamara Ice Cream and Soda" -- plastered on the right breast, faded from wash and from use. Shiro looked them both up and down a moment, raising his eyebrows.

"Uhhh, hi?" he said quietly, cocking his head.

The guy with the hat leaned forward. "Wait! Say that again!" his voice, deeply accented, was suddenly pitched with an excited sort of tone.

"Say what again? Hi?" Shiro's voice came out very slowly, brow furrowed with confusion.

The man turned to the other in the apron. "He's an American," he said with great pride in himself. "Told you. I knew it the second I saw him sit down." The other man nodded, still smiling warmly.

"I'm not quite sure how you knew," he said as he turned his gaze to Shiro, then flickering his eyes back to the man beside him. "But you were right, so I can give you that." The shop was empty- aside from a couple of people who were currently eating- so there was no reason for them not to just stay here and talk. Not until they were needed somewhere in the shop which, hopefully, wouldn't be for a while. "And he has a strong accent- though we do too."

"I... I'm sorry," Shiro started, his tone a bit uncomfortable. "Who, uh, who are you guys? Do you, uh, want me to get up?"

The smaller man's eyes opened wide. "No! No we don't want you to get up! I haven't spoken to an American in years. You're so fascinating," he cried, releasing his link with his friend's arm and moving quickly from the doorframe. In a matter of moments he was sitting beside a rather wary Shiro on the seat, in no regard of Shiro's personal space as he leaned forward to look at him. "You're all so strange! Strange spelling. Strange words... oh my and you are particularly strange! How fascinating!"

Shiro gave the man a look, scooting a bit further from him on the bench. "I'm not strange," he mumbled defensively, casting his eyes to the side.

The man's face fell a bit. "I didn't mean to offend!" He was loud. It upset Shiro's headache a little. "It's good to be strange and different. You're really different. Your eyes and your scar and... and your arm! It's so-"

"Slav," came the man's voice from beside him, a little scolding but still warm and friendly. "Don't scare him off." His eyes turned to Shiro. "Slav is a little excited- you don't see many interesting people around here, and your arm is quite interesting." He smiled, taking a step forward and holding out his hand. Shiro took it, and they shook. "I'm Sven, and this is my husband, Slav." He seemed a little patient, clearly having gotten used to reeling Slav in. They had an interesting and unique dynamic And husbands? They both seemed to be very comfortable with and used to each other. The rings on their fingers were simple, just plain gold rings, but they were there nonetheless. It was a cute little setup. This married couple with their ice cream shop a five minute walk away from Shiro and his husband with their bookstore.

"How does your arm function, though? If it is okay for me to ask. I've not seen anything similar."

Shiro looked at Sven a few moments, lifting an absent minded hand to his arm. The light had still been dimmed from the plane ride. He moved his finger over to the button and pressed down on it, the light of his arm attachment going from its peaceful amber to that bright blue color. Slav beside him held back any sort of reaction, but his mouth had fallen open, and he gave the tiniest muffled squeak of excitement. He seemed to have calmed down a little when Sven put his hand on his shoulder though, closing his mouth and nodding his head up and down, eagerly watching Shiro for an answer.

"I... I don't really know, to be honest," Shiro mumbled weakly, raising his shoulders up into a shrug. "A friend designed it for me. He probably explained all of that sciencey stuff but I... uh... didn't really get it."

 

He paused a few moments, shuffling awkwardly in his bench. "Is, uh, this your shop?" he asked stupidly, not really knowing how to do the whole 'small-talk' thing. He cringed a little, and shook his head. "Of course it is. You're wearing the apron. I-... sorry. I'm new here. I just moved in with my b-" he paused, catching himself. "My husband, Pike. My name is, uh, Kuron." The names still tasted new on his tongue. Husband tasted even odder...

"Ah. He's gay too," Slav muttered under his breath, still nodding. "Also figured that."

Shiro disregarded the little comment, and continued on. "We moved into that gross old bookstore down there," he said, pointing his hand. "I was sent out to find cleaning supplies. It's a real big fixer upper." Sven nodded.

"Ah, yes, we see that sometimes when we walk down that way. If you would need any help, Slav and I close at five and we wouldn't mind coming to help." He offered up a small smile, keeping his eyes on Shiro. He seemed nice- sweet. It was nice to talk to someone who seemed so similar to them yet so different. "But the best supply store is just down the road, third one on this side. They have some good cleaning supplies. If you're shopping for them, does that mean you're moving without any of the rest of your stuff?" he asked, leaning against the counter a little.

Shiro didn't know how to answer that one. It was a good flaw to their story. "We, uh, just didn't pack that sort of stuff," he said weakly, racking his brain for their story again. "We were mostly on sea anyways. Don't have a lot of belongings. I was a captain of a cruise ship for awhile and L-Pike! Pike worked with me." God. That was going to take some getting used to.

Sven turned, sharing a few murmured words with Slav before disappearing behind the counter. He dug around in a cupboard, soon pulling back with a cardboard box of cleaning supplies- including window cleaner, squeegees, air freshener, etcetera. It even had a handheld vacuum. He came over. "We can lend you these, but you should still pick up some stuff of your own. We'll come over to help later and collect them when we leave. Would that help?"

Shiro's eyes brightened a little at the sudden friendliness. "I... yeah... that would be great," he murmured, nodding his head. "Thanks so much. This should be enough for today but... yeah. Yeah I'll totally go buy some stuff later."

He stood up from the bench, giving the observant Slav a look before moving to Sven. He took the box with a thankful smile on his face. "Just uh... come over whenever you want, I guess," Shiro said in an awkward sort of tone... he wasn't quite used to such kind gestures from strangers like that. His story would have gotten a bored nod or a blatant 'fuck off' from nine out of ten people he could have approached in New York. The niceness was... well in the simplest terms, it felt nice. "I should get going. Thanks again for everything... it was nice meeting you. Uh... both of you, I guess." That last bit was a quiet add on, eyes flicking to the smiling Slav still sat on the bench. "I'll tell Pike you guys are coming over. I'm sure he won't mind the help."

"Goodbye!" Slav called to him, lifting his hand. "Thanks for choosing a bench from Gamara Ice Cream and Soda! Come back soon and maybe you'll get a free soda! With the purchase of an ice cream cone of course." Sven elbowed him playfully, smiling as he waved to Shiro before the two of them disappeared behind the counter to continue at work.

Speaking of Pike, Lance was currently draining an energy drink like his life depended on it. He'd just about finished collecting all of the trash he could find, and tiredness was setting in after such incessant tedium. He finally finished the can and simply threw it into the black bag he held in one hand, stood in the bookstore section and clearing any bits of dirt he could find before, satisfied, shoving the bag into the trash. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, even having his pant legs rolled up slightly. He had currently thrown several spiders outside and was hoping he could get rid of almost all of them before his arachnophobe boyfriend returned- before, speak of the devil, looking up from his place by the bin to see Shiro approaching.

He grinned, waving. "Hey! How was it?" he noted the box in Shiro's hands and approached, taking the vacuum from him. "I'll start on removing the spiders now, then. If anything interesting happened, let me know before I turn this thing on and can't hear anything else." He took the box from Shiro when they got back inside and began back upstairs, setting it down beside where Blue was sleeping and beginning to rummage through it. There was a lot of good stuff in here- he almost didn't believe that Shiro had found it all on his own.

"I met someone," he said, running his eyes about the place. Lance had pulled back all the curtains and opened up all the windows, so the house, unlike before, felt as though it could breathe again. Mostly all of the trash and the crumpled leaves and the broken bits of furniture had been stuffed into garbage bags -- a row of them sat by the front door, each one stuffed to just about bursting. The floor looked more open. Grimy and dusty but not as overwhelmingly packed. "Two people actually. Sven and Slav. They're gay ice cream shop owners. They're kinda weird but uh... Sven gave me all his cleaning stuff so I didn't have to buy nothin'."

"Huh," Lance nodded. "Gay ice cream shop owners living just down the road? And they gave you all of this?" he asked, smiling a little. "That's a nice surprise. Definitely hadn't expected that."

He sorted everything into little piles. Stuff for windows, stuff for the kitchen, stuff for floors and walls, etcetera, just wanting to keep everything organised. They even had washing machine tablets! Lance would strip off the seat covers on the sofa and wash them later- that way they could sleep on the sofa temporarily and get furniture tomorrow or the night before, when the place would be cleaner. God, this was exciting. It gave a little buzz to his system, knowing that this house was not only theirs, but the mortgage wasn't even existant. All that they had to spend their money on was renovation and decoration. Which, put into perspective of how much the house itself must have cost, wasn't too much. He took out the duster, beginning to brush off some of the surfaces. He wouldn't use that on the cobwebs, though, not wanting to waste time doing that when the vacuum would get rid of it and any dust- anything, really. They'd need a proper vacuum for the floor, though, but he could pester Shiro to get some later.

Shiro was quiet as he wandered about the more open space of their downstairs book store, leaving Lance to do his thing with the vacuum cleaner and his piles. Their selection of novels was... well... Shiro had to admit it was kind of lacking. When he morosed his slow way around and about their few shelves, all he noticed were some Bibles and some damp poetry books. Shiro plucked up one of those poetry books and skimmed through it, coughing a little at the smell of rotting pages. It was a smaller book -- one of those books people would stick in their pockets and carry around with them. Its bittiness made Shiro curious.

He thumbed about its musty pages for awhile, running his eyes down old sounding poems from old sounding poets. Some were unreadable, their lettering blotted out with rainwater from leaks and such. Though the ones he was able to read as he paced up and down the small aisles of empty shelves were nice. Touching even. Shiro looked up at Lance after he had read through a particularly romantic poem, watching him sitting across the room on his hands and knees, vacuuming up dust and spiders with a look of pure concentration and excitement about his features. That little connection made his heart a bit warmer. Tugged at a bit more of his tired strings. Shiro, wanting to save the feeling, decided to save the page with a dog eared book mark, and stuff the thing in his back pocket.

They would never be able to sell the thing, anyways.

"So what are we gonna do?" Shiro asked Lance, stepping back to look at their dwindled collection from a different angle. "A lot of these have water damage. We're gonna have to make some deals with some publishing companies or something... I'm sure Romelle and Lotor can help with..."

Shiro trailed off, a sudden click sparking in his system at the name Lotor.

"Oh! Shit! I meant to call Lotor!" he cried, lifting up a hand to his head. Shiro patted down his pockets, finding Lotor's number in the same pocket he had his rings. Shiro unfolded the paper, and scanned the number. "Should I wait until its later over there? Uh... we're like five hours ahead so... its like... seven... seven or eight in the morning there... shit. That's why I'm so fuckin' tired." Shiro gave a little laugh and shook his head. He turned to Lance. "Your call, buddy. Should I stay here and help you out a bit or take a chance and tell Lotor everything went smooth. He's probably working on that computer of his anyways."

"Oh, I can keep working! Feel free to call Lotor. Besides, I haven't gotten rid of all of the spiders just yet and the last thing I want is for you to try to help and call me every time you find a spider." Lance approached, pecking Shiro's lips with a smile. "Just don't be gone for too long, alright? I'll miss you," he murmured against his lips, pulling him in for another kiss before releasing Shiro. Shiro kisses him back, tender and sweet. Lance turned on the vacuum again and began running it along the shelves, in corner, holding it against any nook and cranny that he found just to make sure that there were no more spiders stowed away anywhere.

"Alright, Lance," Shiro hummed, turning around. He picked up a hand to wave. "I'll only be a bit. Love you."

Lance smiled as he worked, waving to Shiro over his shoulder when he left to call Lotor. Hopefully he'd be finished vacuuming around the bookstore when his boyfriend returned so that he could leave Shiro to do some cleaning down here. That way, he could begin getting rid of the spiders upstairs and they'd (ideally) have a perfectly tidy bookstore by tomorrow. He was looking forward to beginning to paint everything but he was beginning to wonder how they would get the paint they needed, and how far it would be to get to a home D.I.Y. store. But, either way, he already had plans and visions for this place- he would just need Shiro's help to get him properly sorted.

Shiro wandered down the other side of the main road, going the opposite way of Sven and Slav and their bakeshop. He tried to remember Lotor's instructions, turning down a smaller little road that branched off from the main one. It was lined with much older looking houses and one incredibly ancient bar — still oppositional, its inner lights glowing a shade of amber through the age glossed windows and the cracked shutters of the withering panes. Shiro glossed his eyes from the bar to just right of it, spotting a telephone booth with a wiry frame and sets of old glass. Some were broken. Some were just missing. The metal frame seemed almost skeletal, and was dusted about with the dull orange brown of rust. Shiro approached the old structure a bit tentatively, suddenly wondering if it could work.

His hand left his pocket and found the handle of the little door, careful not to cut his skin upon the rust as he pulled it open. The old hinges screamed in sharp protest, but Shiro slipped his way inside, letting the thing clang to a close behind him. It smelt musty and breathless in the little structure, even if the cold air blew in and out through the missing or cracked windows. The floor was coated with crisp leaves of the past autumn, some clumped up a bit welty in the corners from the rain. Shiro frowned, and turned to look at the old telephone. It was covered with webbing. It made his skin crawl when he reached by it to slip some coins in the slot — newly transferred British coins, thanks to Romelle — and dialed in the number. It was even worse when he brought to phone to his head, being sure to save an inch of space incase of any sort of spider or bug.

Shiro was almost surprised when he heard the grumbling ring, almost expecting the phone not to be strong enough to get through. He wondered if it would be strong enough to reach all the way to America... surely it couldn't be? But then why would Lotor say it would? He would know? Surely? Shiro's anxiety began to build with each ring, and once the fifth one came around, he was sure it was quite helpless.

But then-

Click. A tired hello from a familiar voice. Shiro sighed, and slumped a little.

"Took you long enough to answer," Shiro muttered in a huff of laughter, shaking his head. "For a second I thought this wouldn't work. Hi Lotor."

"Oh," Lotor spoke, seeming a little more awake just from hearing Shiro's voice. "I see that you arrived safely. It'll only be a matter of time before Romelle is on her way back, then. How was the journey, how's the place? Allura told me it was a bit of a fixer-upper, but it shouldn't be too difficult to deal with. And I don't think Lance would have a problem with it- he reorganised my desk at some point while I wasn't in the room. I appreciate it, but now I can't find half of my stuff." He sounded relieved to hear Shiro's voice, eager to know more about what was happening. He was overwhelmingly happy just knowing that Shiro was alive and well, safe in this little pocket of England- even if sadness did plague him whenever he thought about how unlikely it was that he would see Shiro again. Or how Shiro was living out the peaceful life Lotor would have loved a few years back with someone he loved.

A little envy tinged his thoughts but he was easily able to push it back. Soon, he reassured himself, soon I can live that life too.

"Keep me posted on everything that's happened so far. I need to give Allura a report- she permitted one call but I'm going to let you call me whenever- on how the travel has been, how safe you are, etcetera. She's been busy with her... business. You know how it is"

Shiro nodded, a soft warmth of relief flooding his chest at Lotor's casualness. He leaned back a little, but quickly straightened back up at the creaking of the telephone booth wall. "The plane ride was gross and long but cool I guess," he started, laughing a little. "The house is kinda shit, and there's like a million spiders living in it, so that's what's going on with that. Oh! Also fun fact: I'm allergic to dust mites. British dust mites, at least."

His voice was calm. Collected. He just let himself ramble on to Lotor, happy to just let it all out to someone who was more than happy to listen. "Lance is cleaning up already. I haven't done much beside wander around," Shiro explained in a soft laugh. "I met a couple. Sven and Slav. They own an ice cream shop together. Gave me a vacuum cleaner." He paused, thinking a moment. "It's really weird here. Quiet... way quieter. Smells better too. I opened up a window and I didn't smell a garbage truck making rounds. It's... nice."

"Yeah, that's quite a benefit," Lotor said warmly, happy to hear Shiro's voice and absolutely smitten for him. "It's good to know that you're settling down alright- and I assume that these two, Slav and Sven, gave you a vacuum cleaner for a reason? You didn't just meet them and accept a vacuum cleaner given to you for no reason?"

Even from Lotor's voice, it was clear he was happy to hear from Shiro. Lotor had been riddled with anxiety from the second he had left Shiro and Lance's fate in Romelle's hands- it was good to know nothing had happened to them.

Shiro gave a little laugh, shaking his head. "I couldn't find a store selling any cleaning supplies. They gave me a box full of cleaning shit and told me they'd stop by and help later," Shiro explained in a hum... though hearing it out loud from his own lips was kinda jarring. His smile faded a little, and mafia earned suspicion began to spur about in his stomach. "Huh. It's kinda weird, right? Don't think they're Galra spies, do you? That would... that would really suck." Lotor laughed a little.

"Yeah, it would, especially as I did an extensive check through the Galran servers to make sure nobody was in or around that area and because the mafia has no idea where you are. Trust me, the nearest member of the Galra mafia, whether hiding out there or undercover, is three hundred miles away. I put a lot of effort into finding you an adequate place to stay." The last thing Lotor wanted was for Shiro to be paranoid.

As soon as Allura had found the place, and decided it was worth the buy, Lotor had begun searching for every single detail he needed on the Galra mafia members in the UK, for any plans to go to the UK for whatever reason. He had taken every single little precaution to ensure the safety of both Shiro and Lance. He was well aware of the system and how it worked- and his father may have been an expert when it came to technology, but he was as clueless as anyone else his age about digital information. Someone else was in charge of it at all times. Lotor had been in charge for a while, he had organised everything, and although he expected everything to be changed when he became a traitor- the password was the only thing that genuinely changed. The security protocols were increased to keep Lotor out but he knew how to bypass them. He had been studying them for years, after all. To make a long story short- he'd known what he was doing when he'd begun searching for information, he'd learned what he needed to know, and Shiro was safe.

Shiro smiled a little. "Oh, okay," he said, giving a soft sort of sigh. "That's reassuring. You know what you're doing."

"What, do you think I'd risk the safety of one of the very lucky seven?" he asked teasingly, his tone taunting but warm.

Shiro blushed a bright red, his smile growing into a goofy sort of grin. He was growing more comfortable in the phone booth. Despite the decrepit, eerie atmosphere the strange little structure gave forth, and despite the chills and crawls the spider webs and the smells inspired about his skin, Shiro had to admit Lotor's simple presence was a bit grounding. Familiar. He almost found himself leaning up against the door again, feeling comfortable enough to simply relax in some way.

"Of course not," he said softly, the smile obvious in his tone. "I know you got your number seven's back. Or wait, am I seven? If it's a matter of ranking I better be number one. Or maybe a two or three. Top five at least, huh?"

"You're number one, but I'll let you choose whether you think that's a ranking system or because you're the most recent. Just bear in mind that I did sleep with Sendak once, so you need to position yourself accordingly on my list." He smiled, leant back in his chair- though it was only a moment before Lotor, his voice muffled (he'd clearly covered the phone mic), started up a small argument with Allura. It wasn't clear what either of them said, but shortly Lotor's voice was clear again. "Sorry, Allura thinks I should focus."

"Focus-shmocus. Tell her we're talking," Shiro grumbled, a soft mumble of distaste in his tone. He slumped a little, the thought of Allura listening in on them making him a bit bitter. "So how is everything by you? Hotel all fine and shit? Did I leave anything behind?"

He decided to change the topic anyways. There were more jokes and sarcastic quips built up in his arsonal, but Shiro figured it be best to just drop it with Allura listening. He was sure it was awkward for Lotor and awkward for him. Hell, he felt awkward and he was thousands of miles away. Shiro closed his eyes and waited for an answer, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

"I did, but she didn't seem to care. And it's not too rough, though we are only one day in so nothing much would have happened by now. The hotel is fine, we're still cleaning everything up a little and making sure that there were no loose ties to let anyone know where the two of you are. Hotel room was empty, you took everything you brought." A few more quiet exchanged words and Lotor let out an irritated sigh. "Sorry, Shiro, something's come up. In case you didn't know, that's code for 'Allura doesn't want me to talk to you anymore'. Stay safe, okay? You know all of the rules, everything you need to know, don't you? Because if you have any questions, now's the time to ask them."

Just from Lotor's tone, it was clear he'd let go a lot. In all honesty, it wouldn't be surprising if he was a little high right now. He did seem a lot calmer, a lot lighter, than usual. A little more careless about Allura's scathing remarks about his behaviour. "If not, then I'll just say that I love you and I'll talk to you again some other time."

There was a sharp sort of feeling that plunged deep into Shiro's chest at the 'I love you'. It caught Shiro and his half relaxed system wildly off guard. He hadn't... he hadn't said that before, right? Shiro's breath caught in his throat for a second, his words trapped as Lotor's own rang clear in his head.

"I think I'm okay for now," he said. His voice was dryer and quiet. Shiro cleared his throat a little, trying to stall. Did he say it back? Could he say it back? "I'll try to call you later. Probably tomorrow... hopefully Allura won't be breathing over your shoulder next, you know?"

"Sounds good."

A slick beat of silence. "Bye Lotor," he said quietly. "Love you too. Talk to you later."

Shiro waited a second or so before hanging up, wondering if Lotor would respond. When there was a moment of quiet on his side, Shiro pressed his finger upon the switch and pushed it down, his ears met with the shrill static of a dead end. He gave a soft sigh and set the phone on its holder. Lotor was probably quiet because he didn't think to be anything else. He heard Shiro say goodbye and just figured Shiro would hang up. It was normal for people to just express their feelings so casually like that... right? Hopefully. Shiro hopes he didn't freak him out or anything... but to be fair Lotor had said it first.

He sighed again, and shook his head. He pushed open the creaking door, and continued his way back to the house. That was normal. They were buddies. Platonic love was nice. Platonic love was healthy... he had to stop letting the word scare him so much...

Shiro got back to the house in a few minutes, the vacuum loud as Lance dragged it about the corners and the cobwebbing. He gave a soft smile, that confused feeling misting about his system finally settling at the sight of his lover crouched in the corner, covered in dust and dirt. He strode forward, plopped down beside him, and pressed a kiss upon his cheek. A dumb choice, one costing him a sneeze into his arm and watery eyes, but it was incredibly worth it to see the happiness shine in Lance's eyes.

"Hey, kitten," he hummed, rubbing his nose a bit as he leaned back. "You got all the spiders taken care of?"

"Yep!" Lance said proudly, holding his vacuum cleaner like it was a gun. "Officer McClain, primed and ready to kill spiders to save his handsome boyfriend." He leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's cheek in return. He then stood, straightened up, his arms over his head to make his back click, needing to stretch to ease the tension from his poor muscles. "Now what, darling? Can I trust you with cleaning the windows? Tomorrow, I'll need to get a proper vacuum so I can clean the floors here and upstairs. We're going to have to sleep on the couch today, too, but I've already put the cushion covers in the wash so they should be clean for when we go to bed."

He turned, stretching again, bending over to touch his toes before straightening up with his arms over his head. "How was the call with Lotor? Is everything alright?"

Shiro stood with him, his eyes in search of that box Sven had given him. "It was cool. Nice to talk to him again," he said gently, nodding. The box was by the sofa. Shiro made his way over to it, leaned over, and plucked out the window cleaner and a rag. He wandered over to the nearest window, pulled it down, and spritzed about each panel. He looked over his shoulder, grinning a little.

"Look at me," he said, pressing the rag against the wet glass. Shiro turned back around and moved his arm in small circles, rubbing at some of the grime. It came off hard — each panel was going to require a little extra elbow grease. "I'm cleaning! Bet you never thought you'd see the day. Takashi Shirogane doing chores, huh?" Lance laughed softly, glancing over at him.

"Oh, definitely not. I never expected to be fake-married to the drug lord I spent months hunting down. Do you know how much effort I put into solving that case? I was up all night sometimes, trying to piece together every little detail. It was only when I managed to find some shredded documents that I found the address for the warehouse you used. I assumed that there would be clues there to lead me to you- you know, so I could build up a case, find evidence, slowly get enough information to know when would be best to arrest you. I didn't expect to end up in a room with several people dealing fucking drugs and have the one man I was hunting down save my life. So, no, I definitely didn't think I'd see you doing chores."

He began wiping down the shelves, cleaning them, soon taking the wheeled shelves outside just enough to get them out of the way. "And then when I lived at your place? Christ, Shiro, I was doing everything! I bet you loved it, though. You got to laze around and get high and have sex or whatever- that was really awkward for me, by the way- while I cleaned everything up. I didn't mind, though. Lance was smiling warmly, his eyes flickering to Shiro as he studied the empty room. "I think I should start stripping the paint- o-or I'll go upstairs and clean up there? Which do you think I should do first?"

Shiro just watched him. He'd been watching him for awhile — all throughout his story. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his lips as he leaned away from his half clean window, cocking his head a little. "So you admit it," he murmured with a smile, ignoring Lance's question for a second. "You've always been obsessed with me, huh kitten?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't flatter yourself, handsome," Lance retaliated despite his reddening cheeks.

Shiro's smirk became a little more playful as the blush he noticed the little comment inspired upon Lance's cheeks. Shiro stepped towards him, dropping the rag and the spray bottle so he could wrap his arms about Lance's waist in a loose hug. He looked down at Lance, head tilted to the side, his brow cocked. "Was it really your civil duty, or did you always have a teensy tiny crush on little old Takashi?" Shiro hummed, winking at his name. "It's just the whole losing sleep over me, as cute as it is, sounds a little like you had the hots for the mysterious drug lord. How scandalous..."

Shiro leaned in and kissed him before Lance could answer, the kiss tender and long. He pulled back, liking how red Lance's face had gotten. They were both a little breathless when he spoke again. "I say we clean upstairs first. Do one whole sweep and then come back to do the paint. But you're the housewife, right? You know better than me."

"I swear to god," Lance muttered as he his his face with both hands. "I'm going to kill you myself for this." He took a step or so back and paused to take a deep breath. "I'm honestly starting to think that you just love the sound of your own voice."

"What's there not to love about it?" Shiro quipped in a deep little purr.

Lance moved back, finally, and disappeared up the stairs, the soft sound of the vacuum indicating each time he stopped to get rid of a spider or some cobwebs, having a lot that they needed to do to get this place into shape. Lance had already been cleaning for two hours and all he'd done was clear out some of the cobwebs. How miserable.

But Lance was just relieved that he was getting this done. He grabbed a couple of energy drinks, running one downstairs to Shiro and pecking his cheek, dashing away before any more humiliating housewife-themed remarks could be made. It took them about another two hours for Lance to get the cobwebs cleared out and for Shiro to clean the downstairs windows inside and out, moving upstairs to do the same as best as he could. They were taking a little break now. Blue had woken up and was curiously investigating her surroundings, Black doing the same but at a much slower pace.

 

They had settled on the sofa, Lance's legs slung lazily over Shiro's lap as he nestled into his neck. He yawned.

"God," he mumbled. "Jet lag is fucking murderous, huh?"

"Mm," Shiro groaned, too tired to form words. He had gotten all of the windows done — inside and out, as he was instructed. His arm hurt. His fingers were cramped and smelled of window cleaner... in fact everything smelt like window cleaner to him. Almost as if the smell had been stained in his nostrils. Didn't bode all that well for his migraine, but the break was nice, and Lance beside him had been even nicer. Shiro had his head tipped back on the plush of the backrest — all of the cushions were without coverings with them being in the wash and all — and had his leg propped up on their low little coffee table that had come with the house.

Black had ventured from her crate and was moving hesitantly about the shop, skittish of every shadow and every shelf. Shiro had watched her for awhile before he got bored of his cats nervous curiosity, and then simply hung his head back, letting Lance cuddle up by his neck. He had lost his teasing nature from before, too tired for any sorts of sarcastic quips and flirtatious hums. He simply sat and breathed long, deep breaths, coughing only every now and again due to Lance's great cleaning.

It was easy to fall asleep. The atmosphere about them was mostly fresh and smelt of that lovely country air. The couch, though stiff and musty, was comfortable against his strained muscles. Lance was warm beside him, warmer than the cool air that still slipped in from some of those windows Shiro had opened back up again. All of those feelings began to lure Shiro down into another sleep... his eyelids falling, his lips parting lazily as his features relaxed themselves. He was just about settled beneath the veil of slumber when-

A heavy set of knocks — three loud, sturdy ones — thudded from the door. Shiro's head snapped up, system seizing with surprise. He whipped his gaze around, hand finding Lance's shoulders as his nervous eyes found the door. The loud noises had frightened him and his sleepy system. It took a good few moments to regain his senses.

"Hello?" came a familiar voice. Shiro racked his brain, and gave a sigh, slumping against Lance. "We've come for our supplies-" the voice was cut off by a quiet chiding. "Oh! Oh of course we came to help too."

Lance was the one to get up and rush to the door. He smiled as he opened it, briefly introducing himself as Pike, husband to Kuron, and letting them come in. They shared a short chat while Lance led them upstairs, talking about their flight and how they'd both met Kuron- stuff like that. It was nice to discuss this with someone- solidifying his new life by telling these strangers about him and Shiro. Kuron. Whatever.

He finally got to their room and looked over at Shiro. "Hey, I'm assuming that these two are the people you were talking about earlier?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Shiro nodded. "Oh, uh, yeah," he mumbled, looking at the two of them. "I'm glad you guys could make it."

Slav nudged his husband. "He's glad we could make it," he echoed, pride in his words.

Lance was already returning to cleaning, deciding to wake himself up a little by getting something done. Sven knelt down to pet Blue, who happily leapt up at him and yapped and ran in circles around him. Lance began brushing down the windows once more- just with a clean cloth to make sure that they didn't have any leftover window cleaner on- before pushing them open fully in order to get a little more fresh air in. He and Sven began working on cleaning the kitchen, telling Sven just to clean everything up so that it would be in a useable state. He had plans to change everything, anyway, so it didn't matter too much.

He and Sven started speaking of the stories about their marriage, telling each other every cute little detail. Lance made up something about Shiro (Kuron) not having the money to get him a ring just yet, wanting to wait to get something beautiful, and so neither of them wore rings. He believed it, and the conversation topic changed immediately. It was surprisingly easy to lie to people when your whole life depended on it.

Who'd have thought?


	40. Redecorating, Renovating

Fixing up the shop... it... it took a lot.

It took a lot of days. It took a lot of weeks. It took a nice little handful of months. It took a lot of nights on that stiff, scratchy couch Shiro vowed they would burn the moment they ordered a new one. It took a lot of light bulbs for each light and each lamp. It took of lot of screws for each pipe that had been rusted over from neglect. It took a lot of bleach and a lot of scrubbing and a lot of sweeping and a lot of painting. It took about a whole month to clean the downstairs, and another month and a half for the upstairs -- though of course that half was reserved for the moldy nightmare of a bathroom... which was more of a personal project to Shiro as he fixed up that old, ruggedly likable bathtub to his perfect standards.

As much as it took, though, Shiro had to admit it was worth it, the way things began to shape up. 

And of course... he couldn't deny it was rather fun at times, too.

The three long days they spent painting harbored one of their favorite memories from that long period of fixing-up the place. The pets had been cooped upstairs so they wouldn't try to eat any of the paints. Shiro, in a white tank top and jeans, had been doing the walls where most the shelves would be pushed against, painting it a cozy tannish sort of color and covering up the dull, cracking white. Lance's job was to paint behind the counter whatever color he desired, and to touch up all of the wooden fixtures that ran along the bottoms of the walls and around the window panes and about the old fireplace with a deeper shade of brown. They had been a day and a half in, each of them covered in paint and rather exhausted, when the memorable moment began. Sven and Slav had been manning their own ice cream shop having helped enough that morning with laying down blue painters tape about corners and ridges so Shiro's work wouldn't dribble down onto Lance's.

It was just the two of them, some random pop song thumping from a radio Lance had bought at a pawn shop just six blocks away.

Shiro had been concentrating on his paint roller stroke, dragging it down the wall in a slow, practiced sort of manner. He'd done it plenty of times before that day... he was sort of an expert on it. Just as he was about done, the last sliver of white getting covered up by the last stroke of his first coat, he felt a splatter of something cool on his bicep. Shiro's jumped a little at the feeling, and brought his prosthetic to his arm, bringing it back to reveal a smear of baby blue about the stainless steel. He flicked his eyes up to Lance.

The little fucker had his paintbrush, stained with baby blue, pointed forwards towards him in a way that made Shiro think it had just been used as a weapon. There was a bright smile on his face, giggles just barely escaping his lips. Shiro's eyes widened, and his mouth fell open in surprise. "Lance! Did you just-?"

"Surrender!" Lance's voice came, full of giddy excitement as he dipped the paintbrush back into the bucket and readied it for another attack. "I'll show you no mercy, Takashi." He grinned, flicking another brush-full of paint at Shiro and watching it splatter on his shoulder, leaving a nice blue splodge all the way to his neck.

He began to circle Shiro, still wielding his mini weapon, the grin never leaving his lips. "Put both your hands behind your head and get on the ground!" He leant to his shoulder, pretending to speak into a walkie-talkie. "I've got him pinned down, boys." He continued to move in a little circle around Shiro, his brush still dipped in blue paint enough for consistent melee use. Lance was far from dangerous as himself, much less so when his weapon of choice was a mini paintbrush. "Surrender now or I will use force!" Of course he decided that he was going to feign being police during this. He already knew everything that he had to do to play the perfect part of a police officer, so it just seemed like a perfect choice.

Shiro looked at him a second, his eyebrows high on his face and his eyes watching him with a judging sort of stare. He gave a soft sigh, wiped some of the paint off with his hand, and then turned back to Lance.

It was a short distance between them... it wouldn't take much to get to him...

In an instant, Shiro's bored demeanor changed, eyes narrowing and becoming more mischievous than sarcastic as he lunged forward. He ducked out of the way of another desperate paint splatter, and then twirled around Lance so he stood behind him. He moved with expert preciseness and practiced skill, having done the maneuver many times whenever a cop had a gun to him. Shiro wrapped one arm around Lance to hold his arms down tightly, and lifted his paint smeared prosthetic to Lance's face, holding it just barely an inch from his skin.

"Now I need you to surrender," Shiro hummed, letting his hand draw dangerously close. "Don't make me do this McClain..."

Lance squealed, kicking his legs and squirming, laughing as he was pinned to his boyfriend's chest before getting ahold of himself and managing to stifle his giggles.

"I have backup! We have you surrounded!" He leant back from the hand as best as he could. "Please! Shiro-! No-!"

No amount of his giggly pleading or struggled wriggling could stop Shiro. He pressed his hand against Lance's face, being sure to draw it back slow enough for a perfect handprint if baby blue would appear upon his skin. Shiro gave a laugh and let Lance go, lifting his clean hand to his head. He pointed at Lance and giggled.

"Haha! It's a perfect handprint!" he snorted, shaking his head. Lance finally managed to pull back, only to dip his brush in the paint and slash it across Shiro's face while he was preoccupied, only to immediately go back to dip the brush in again and again, leaving small lines all across Shiro's face, ducking and weaving under his arm when Shiro tried to snatch him up again so that he could drag the brush over the back of his neck. He held it out like it was a weapon yet again. "Truce! Truce!" He said with a grin, backing off. "I surrender! We're even! Truce!"

He managed to dash back enough to have a couple of meters between them. Enough distance to preserve his safety in case Shiro tried that again. He knew his boyfriends moves now, he knew how to avoid another attack. Somehow, the paint fight had died away (though not before Shiro threatened to throw the full bottle of paint on Lance, who had barely managed to convince him not to) and they finally focused on painting once more. The shower that they had shared that night was unpleasant. They'd spent most of it just wiping paint from each other, and Lance had been in the shower getting paint from his hair until the water ran cold. All that that led to was cuddling on their couch until they dozed off clinging to each other.

There were other fun times such as that. Nights of setting up new furniture — Shiro spending hours desperately scanning through instruction manuals before their bed frame and shelves, but ultimately giving up and letting Sven figure out some of the handiwork. There was shopping for that furniture, the two of them going around the department store about two hours from their new house, Shiro jumping on and lying on the mattresses when the store clerk wasn't looking. There were nights he spent talking to Lotor in that decrepit phone booth, sometimes with Lance, sometimes all by himself. There were the nights out exploring the close restaurants, always swinging back by Sven and Slav's place for a cone and a soda for dessert and conversation.

Money was considerably tight for those long months of renovation. The money they got from Allura and Lotor every week was good and all, but with the bills and the furniture costs and every meal out they found it a bit harder to pay for new clothes or other sorts of wants and pampering. It's why it took so long to schedule Shiro a hair appointment for his new look — they waited until the furniture was purchased and paid off, and after the house was painted, and once the bills for that month were paid before Shiro walked into a family owned barber shop, Lance at his side.

Needless to say Shiro hated getting his hair dyed. The bleach smelled bad. The dye smelled even worse. The dryer was uncomfortable and made him looks stupid — oh Lance surely had a great kick out of it. The best part of the whole experience had been getting his hair washed in that weird little sink just because he liked the way the water felt, and the professional-level shampoo smelled rather handsome on him. After a long, tiring, and humiliating experience at the barber, Shiro stood, looked at the mirror, and cocked his head.

The white brought out his eyes. It made his features look a little sharper — especially since his eyebrows were still his darker shade. Shiro turned his head back and forth, running his hands through his new, very soft hair as he listened to the barber tell him he'd have to come back every month to get his roots done. Shiro turned to Lance, smiling nervously.

"How do you like it?" he asked, shrugging a little. "I don't look like a creepy old man, right?"

"No more than usual," Lance said with a warm smile, leaning up and pressing his lips to Shiro's as he ran his fingers through the soft hair. "It suits you a lot. And it honestly looks a little better than the zebra look you were sporting this morning."

He held Shiro's hand and squeezed, talking excitedly about whatever was new this time. He told Shiro about how excited he was to spend more time with him, how he was looking forward to opening- they'd be opening the following morning, having just had all their books brought in and organised- and how he was eager to finally live the quaint life he'd dreamed about. Sure, it could be a little boring at times to live somewhere so quiet, but it was worth it. He felt safe here. Safe and relaxed and god knows that it was far more relaxing than anything else.

They only needed to walk for five minutes, smiling softly as he looked at his darling handsome boyfriend. "Oh, your hair's so bright now, babe. It's blinding me," he said with a small smile. "But I do like it. What do you think? Ooh, should I dye my hair? I can do whatever I want now that I'm here. Should I?"

Shiro turned back to the mirror, and looked at Lance through his reflection, moving closer to him and wrapping his arm about his waist. "Whatever you want to do, baby, go ahead and do it," he hummed, turning head a bit so his bangs moved across his forehead. They were a much prettier white than before... Lance had been right about the whole ratty zebra comparison from before. The roots that had been growing in were gone, and the specks of brown that still remained even after the stressful white took over were gone as well. Oh, it looked much, much better. "We've got the opening tomorrow. Have to have you looking your best, huh?"

He brought Lance back to the counter by that fond hold on his hip, and nudged him a little, waiting to see if he'd be up for asking right away. Shiro leaned in and whispered something about their price limits, though, figuring it was important to keep in mind. Luckily, with the opening being the next day and all, they would... hopefully... start getting a little more of their own money flowing through the bank.

Lance glanced up at the options, then at Shiro. "I could dye it at home, you know," he said with a small smile. "I helped dye my sister's hair sometimes. I don't mind doing it at home." He squeezed Shiro's hand again, studying the options he had. "I think I'll only get the edges done, though. A fade. How does that sound?" he asked as he looked up at him, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to Lance's cheek. "It's... It's not too expensive here, but I don't want to push the bounds of our budget, you know? I already went over when ordering books for the store."

He was a little worried about budgets and money. He had reason to be- if this bookstore plan didn't work... he didn't know what they'd do. Of course, it was likely going to work but he was still nervous. They'd done so much to get the place into shape, so it would be heartbreaking if it failed now.

"Yeah, I think a faded dye would be nice, but- but whatever works best with the budget, babe."

Shiro smiled at him, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket to pay the barber. "Alright, hun'," he said, pulling out his card. Shiro passed it to the barber, and turned to Lance. "We're getting money from Allura and Lotor tomorrow morning, so it won't be too tight for much longer, right? We'll pay off the books and everything then. Our budget is fine, babe."

"Okay," Lance said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," Shiro murmured with a smirk, hugging him close in a quick little one-armed squeeze.

He paused to look at the barber. "Add a bottle of blue dye to our order please," he hummed, watching the man nod and tap about the screen that had been computing their cost. A few more taps and a few more moments and their receipts had been printed. Shiro was handed a cute little bag with Lance's hair dye, and was given a kind smile before the two made their way back to the house.

Lance went to the bathroom as soon as he had gotten back. He showered to wet his hair before he applied the dye, smiling a little into the mirror. He'd gotten Shiro's help for the back of his head but he'd done the rest himself, settled contently in the bathroom. He let it set for twelve minutes, as per the instructions on the box, before taking a long shower. When he finally left with a towel around his waist, he had blue tips to the ends of his hair. He walked over to Shiro and pecked his cheek as he slipped on some casual clothes. He'd be consistently dying his hair from then onwards.

The following day, Lance had dressed a little smarter than usual- plain black jeans and a t-shirt with a black blazer-type jacket. He was excited though nervous, and anxiety bubbled up in his system when he realised that today was going to be the first day of their opening. There was going to be a little ceremony- just so that a picture could be put in the town's paper- before it would be opened properly. It was nothing fancy- it was nothing at all, really- but Lance was too excited to dress lazy and to not spend the whole day fussing and talking to Shiro about how much he'd wanted this. God, he had been looking forward to this.

"Shiro!" Lance's voice came, loud and scolding. It was two minutes until they were supposed to open their shop, and Shiro had been sitting on the bed in his boxers until only a couple of minutes before. "I swear to god that I'll get your name taken out of the paper if you don't come down here right now! I'm not going to be late to this because you didn't want to get up!"

"I'm up, I'm up!" Shiro called from the top of the stairs, rubbing his eyes. He was showered and dressed already — wearing a pair of higher waisted black jeans, a tucked white shirt, and his expensive leather jacket. He had his hair combed and his bangs fluffed up to perfection. His glasses, fixed and tightened by a nearby repair shop, were sitting perfect on his nose as he stepped his way down the stairs, his laced boots clomping upon each dusted wooden step.

The house looked much better. Upstairs and down. They had gotten new carpets and new shelves and new lights and new chairs and new desks. The oak counter had been glossed to a glistening sheen and set up with a small vase of flowers and a collection of little homemade trinkets they had collected from the shops around them. Their cash register was new, and their card reader was even newer. The books looked handsome all tucked up and away in their shelves, most new and fresh. Shiro's poetry book — that one he had found nearly three and a half months ago — was tucked neatly in his back pocket with his phone and his wallet. He wouldn't be putting it up for sale... still for some reason he felt some sort of connection to it...

Shiro found Lance standing by the door, checking his new watch — the one Shiro bought for him rather impulsively while they were out one night — with an impatient frown on his face. Shiro went to him, sweeping him up in his arms and presenting him an apologetic kiss. "Sorry, babe," he murmured against his lips, kissing him again before pulling back. "Had to get myself presentable, with being on the news and all. Look! I've got eyeliner on. Cool, huh?"

"Yeah, cool, beautiful," he said hurriedly as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Remind me again when we've got this over, okay? I'm a little too anxious to focus on anything but what I want to say in front of everyone, sweetheart."

"Ah. alright," Shiro chuckled, rolling his eyes a little. "Calm down sweetheart. Everything's gonna be okay. Deep breaths, yeah kitten?"

"Yeah," he said softly, smiling sweetly. "Yeah, definitely. Thanks, babe."

Shiro acted his calmest to soothe his boyfriends nerves... but in reality he felt just as off. The newspaper situation had worried him, of course. He didn't confess any of his worries to Lance... he never did anymore... but he had confessed them to Lotor over the phone. He hated to say that Lotor had been informed with every bit of negativity he'd experienced from their new life — all of Shiro's secret worries and stresses. He would talk to Lotor about the bills and the overspending and even some of the dirty look someone had given him in the grocery store. Shiro couldn't tell Lance of course... Lance was too happy for any of Shiro's secret angers and worries... but Lotor seemed willing enough to listen. He had asked Lotor if the newspaper would be any sort of dangerous to them, and had been easily assured that as long as it wouldn't be digitized, Zarkon could never see it. Luckily, with the eighty-six year old mayor's knowledge on the internet and how to use it, Shiro was sure it wouldn't be digitalized any time soon.

But there was still that pinch of worry...

Lance took Shiro's hand excitedly. He kissed his knuckles. "Come on," he said softly. "Come on, let's go." He finally took Shiro outside, bringing him close. People were already waiting- not too many, only ten or so, but Lance still seemed nervous. After all, saying the wrong thing here could have consequences. He moved a little closer to Shiro as he got outside.

He said something short and sweet. Shiro was evidently too preoccupied with watching the cameras and studying the scenery to listen. Lance said that he was happy to move here, that he and his husband were looking forward to being a part of the community- etcetera. It was short, barely a minute long, but it was long enough for Lance to have been worried. A few pictures were taken of the two of them outside their shop before they were thanked for their time and Lance turned the sign from 'Closed' to 'Open'. He brought Shiro back inside, sitting on the counter, holding his boyfriends hands.

Now that whole business was over, he felt a lot more relaxed. He cupped Shiro's cheeks, admiring his face and studying his makeup.

"Your eyeliner matches," he said with a smile, pecking the corner of Shiro's lips from how he had Shiro's head tilted. "It looks really good. I'm sorry I wasn't focused earlier. I really, really like it." He smiled, bringing him in for a gentle kiss yet again. "Have you got highlight on?" he suddenly questioned, running his fingertips along Shiro's cheek and studying the shiny powder on his fingers. "Woah, you really did put effort into this. It really suits you." He was making up for not paying attention earlier. Besides- he'd never actually seen Shiro with makeup like this. On one or two occasions, he'd seen Shiro with little flicks for wings, but not like this. He hadn't seen eyeliner with these sharp, cute wings or the highlight that ran along his cheeks and down the tip of his nose. "It really suits you."

Shiro smiled at him, leaning forward into his touches, happy to have Lance's hands cupping his cheeks. "Thanks," he said sweetly, a bit smiley at Lance's praises. "I don't wear it often. Take it in while you can, McClain..."

"Believe me, I plan on it."

Opening day was great. The business was booming — for a town with a population a little over three hundred of course. By closing, Shiro and Lance had been tired, each of them worn out and nearly listless with relief. Shiro himself had grown fairly tired of the repetitive questions and answers, his social battery just about drained as he slumped beside Lance on the couch, a canned margarita in one hand, and Lance's fingers entwined with his own in the other. He admitted with a tired sigh that customer service might not have been his forte.

So he moved onto other things in the next few weeks that passed. Of course on the more heavy shifts he'd stay and help Lance with the shop, but whenever he could he went out and looked for work. Shiro did little jobs — jobs he'd find in the newspaper or posted about on telephone poles. Most of them were yard work, of course. Mowing. Raking. He hadn't done much planting with the weather getting so cold, but he had helped some old lady set out Christmas lights when December ended up coming around. There were some days he woke up from a restless sleep where he didn't work at all and simply slept upstairs unless Lance would need him. There were some days where he couldn't find anything to do so he morosed about the shop instead... maybe swinging by that old bar for a quick drink and a call to Lotor. As much as he loved them, Shiro limited his calls to Lotor about once every two weeks out of his nagging fear of Zarkon catching on some how...

That was a nagging fear he found himself experiencing a lot, actually.

But it didn't matter. It was just his own head. Shiro just worked to keep it from getting to him. He worked, he slept, he bought things for Lance, he watched movies with Lance. He wasn't going to let it get to him.

He certainly didn't want it getting to Lance...

Another memorable moment was brought about on one of those movie nights. Of course, it wasn't exactly a happy one, but Shiro made a firm point to never forget it. It started four months in to their new life. They'd been curled up on their bed, watching some non-Disney movie for a change. It was some movie about a hitman or something — something Shiro remembered Keith talking about a few years back. It wasn't very good. Kind of boring actually. Certainly unrealistic, Shiro could say, being a hitman himself and all.

It was late. Shiro was told by Lance it had been rather quiet day at the shop — Sundays always were. Shiro had worked his tail off cleaning up the truck of an old dude who lived a little more than a few blocks away, his muscles tired and his head even more sleepy. He had one arm wrapped behind Lance's back, hugging him close so he could rest his head upon Lance's shoulder. Shiro was just about falling asleep, the sounds of the epic final fight of that silly action movie distant as his eyelids sank further and further...

"No-!" The loud cry jarred Shiro from his sleepy state.

Someone had fired a gun and one of the important characters had died. Lance watched the screen for a few moments with wide, heartbroken eyes. He'd been talking to Shiro throughout the film about how he'd liked that character, how he thought he was interesting and liked his motives, etcetera. He watched as this character that he'd grown so attached to died. Lance curled up, wrapping his arms tightly around Shiro's neck, and pressed up close. He kept his head tucked away in the crook of Shiro's neck, hiding it from Shiro's sight, but that didn't mean that his shaky little breaths didn't give it away that he was shaken by this. It wasn't that big of a deal, but- but it still upset him. Evidently, there had been a lot on Lance's mind and this had been the tipping point.

He didn't cry over films. Not usually, and provided that you don't include Disney films in that. He didn't usually cry at films, much less action movies- much much less when the character died only about an hour into the film and there wasn't much of a connection.

The point was- this shouldn't have brought Lance to tears. It shouldn't have shaken him so badly that he was trembling in Shiro's arms. There must have been a lot on his mind and god knows what else.

He pulled back after a few moments, his sleeves tugged down over the palms of his hands so he could wipe his eyes. He let out a soft, humourless laugh at his own miserable state. He was tense, awkward, and clearly didn't like how he was behaving right now. He pushed himself back from Shiro properly now, folding his arms over his chest. "God, look at me. I'm fucking crying." He glanced up at Shiro. "Or don't look at me. I don't mind. Seriously. I- I don't care. God, what's gotten into me?"

He held out his hands in front of him, watching how he trembled. He didn't know how that had happened. He didn't know why he had just suddenly gotten so emotional. He let out another weak little laugh. "God, just ignore me. Please, just ignore me. I'll be okay soon. Trust me, I just need to breathe for a few moments. Trust me." He began to shift off of Shiro's lap, wanting to get himself a drink of water and perhaps just needing a few moments to breathe. "Give me a couple of moments, okay?"

Shiro watched him a second, his previously drooping eyes wide and rounded with concern. "Lance-" he started, beginning to push himself up from the bed, his hand just starting to reach out to take Lance's. He stopped himself quickly, though, his mind finally waking up enough to recognize what Lance had said and how he said it. Shiro straightened himself up, but he didn't try to take Lance's hand and hold him there... no. Something was off. Something was wrong. Lance almost looked to be panicking, his hands shaky and his eyes flicking from this way and that. Shiro watched him for a second, and nodded, groping blindly for the remote behind him.

"Sure. Okay," he murmured weakly, finding the remote and pausing the movie. Shiro looked at Lance for a long moment or so, suddenly chewing on the inside of his cheek. He had gotten out of bed. It looked like he was moving towards the other room. "Are you going to the kitchen? I... I can come too if you need me to. You... you seem kind of shaky. Are you sure you're alright?" Lance glanced back at him. He nodded to the first question, shook his head to the second, trudging over to the kitchen on his own. He pulled open a cupboard door and got out a glass, pouring himself a glass of water. He wiped at his eyes a little more, his hands still shaking noticeably. He sighed, running one hand through his hair as he drained the glass.

He got himself another and some tissues before going over to join Shiro again- sitting in the corner of the bed, a little away from Shiro. He didn't have Shiro's warmth sitting here, and he missed it a lot, but he wasn't one to complain. He didn't think he'd stop crying if he settled down in Shiro's lap. He could deal with this later. The emotions were humiliating and stupid and he didn't want to endure them right now.

He didn't say anything and instead just nodded to the screen to tell Shiro to continue playing the film, beginning to drain the second glass he'd brought and wiping his eyes with one of the tissues. He was already feeling better. He hoped he was. The only other option was that he was blocking out the negative emotions which was more likely. But he didn't really care right now. He'd lost his interest in the film now, too, but he figured that it would divert his attention off of his own poor state.

Shiro looked from Lance, to the remote, to the television, and then back to Lance again. His brow was furrowed, and his lips were turned down in a frown of reluctant concern. He placed his thumb over the play button, feeling and toying at the rubber with his fingernail, thinking about what to say. What to do. Shiro, after a moment or so of his silence, set the remote down without pressing play, and shifted his body around to face Lance.

"If there's something wrong, you can tell me," Shiro said in a soft tone. "You don't have to hold it back or anything, baby. If there's something bothering you, you should go ahead and tell me. It... it might help you feel better..."

Something in the back of his head, a chiding voice perhaps, called him a hypocrite in the sharpest, bitterest of tones... but he disregarded it with ease.

Shiro sighed, and cocked his head a little. "Is it the shop stressing you out? We can change it so we're not open on weekends anymore if you need some breaks," he murmured, leaning forward towards Lance. "I'll try to stay here more often too, you know? To help you out if you need it."

"It's nothing to do with that," he muttered. "I don't want to talk about it right now, I need to clear my head. Just- just give me a little bit. Just... If I can, I'll talk to you tomorrow. I'll tell you about it at some point, I promise, just- just not right now. Okay?" He shifted a little bit where he was sat and soon clutched onto a pillow like his life depended on it, keeping his eyes averted from Shiro. He wasn't even really sure what the problem was. He loved the bookstore. He loved running it and making friends and he loved everyone in this little village area but- but something was gnawing at him and he didn't know what it was. He'd deal with it at some point. He'd have to deal with it eventually.

He wasn't sure what it was so he couldn't form it into words so he couldn't tell Shiro- no matter how badly he wanted to be open with the man he was not-married-married to. When he figured it out, he'd talk to Shiro. Whenever that may be.

Shiro watched him for a moment, and then nodded, turning his head back around to face forward. He patted for the remote, lifted it up, and pressed the play button. Shiro situated himself back into his previous spot which... which was suddenly a hell of a lot colder without Lance snuggled against him. He found his gaze traveling from the movie to Lance every now and again, a quiet yearning for his closeness blossoming about in his chest. He wouldn't say anything though... no, no. Lance was... well Lance was something. Overwhelmed or stressed or panicked or sad... whatever it was, Shiro didn't want to make him feel trapped or pressured into anything. He kept his mouth shut, letting his now free hands travel down to pet on Blue's head, who'd been cuddled up by Shiro's legs.

The movie continued on, ended, and then flicked off back to cable. Shiro clicked the power button and the light of the television promptly died, dousing the room in a deep sort of darkness, the only lights the amber glimmer from the streetlamps outside, and the light from the bathroom. Shiro liked to leave it on and crack the door. It made him feel a little safer to see just a bit more at night.

It was raining outside -- it rained a lot there. It drummed against the window, each heavy drop fat and loud whenever it would thump against the glass. Shiro scooted up into a sit, and pulled back the corner of the blanket on Lance's side in a quiet prompting for him to join him in bed. He pushed Blue's heavy form down to the foot of the bed and out of Lance's spot with his foot, and turned his gaze back up to Lance's shadowed form.

"Let's just go to bed," he said softly, a weak smile on his face.

Lance's eyes flickered over to Shiro for half a second and he nodded. He averted his gaze.

"Yeah," he mumbled, moving to settle down under the covers on the far side of his side of the bed. "Goodnight, Shiro." He brought the blanket over himself, curled up into a ball, his arms wrapped around himself. He didn't want any physical contact right now. He was overwhelmed by the thought of it alone. Blue plodded over and settled down in the middle of the bed, acting like a barrier to force Shiro to keep his distance from Lance. He just lay there and stared blankly at the wall opposite him and the thin slither of light on the wall opposite from the open bathroom door.

He didn't really want to fall asleep. He didn't know if he could fall asleep. All that he knew was that he didn't want to risk having any nightmares and he definitely didn't want to go to sleep feeling like he'd upset Shiro- but he didn't know what else to say to him.

Shiro, on the other hand, felt himself start to worry whether or not he had upset Lance. The idea began to fester in his system the moment he laid down and turned away from him, a spark igniting in his chest, the gears in his head clicking in realization. But... what did he do? What did he say? It couldn't have been before the movie... and Shiro was neary listless during the thing so he was sure it wasn't then... was it something building up? Some sort of anger for something he did a while ago? Did he lie or something? God, he hoped he didn't accidentally lie about something... the thought made his stomach churn. Out of all the promises he had made to Lance... that was one of the biggest one. That and the vow to never kill again were the two promises that weighed heavily upon each of Shiro's shoulders, reminding him, chiding him.

An hour or so of fretfully laying there had passed, and Shiro felt his system itching for Lance. He couldn't tell if he was asleep or not... he was quiet, but the tell tale sighs of Lance's slumber, the sighs Shiro had recognized after his own sleepless nights of listening to them, had been absent. Shiro waited a long while before even trying to attempt anything, almost secretly hoping Lance wouldn't even try to respond...

"Hey, Lance?" he asked weakly into the dark, quiet room. "You awake, buddy?"

"Hm?" Lance rolled over, rubbing his eyes a little. "What is it?" He pushed himself to sit up, Blue perking up at the movement. He pet her, scratching behind her ear until she settled back down, sighing softly. He didn't know what Shiro wanted but he could tell from his tone, even in a dismal whisper, that it was nothing good. His eyes stayed on Shiro for a few long moments as he watched him, unsure of what he was going to say. Knowing Shiro- it could be anything.

Shiro didn't know if that was relief lightening up his system, or the simple easy fluttering of his heart he'd get whenever Lance spoke to him -- a flutter which felt especially good that night after Lance's more dismal tone from before. "Oh, you are awake," he said softly in a sigh, rolling over as well. He didn't quite know what to say or what to do. He just looked up to Lance's eyes glimmering in the lame light of their bedroom. "I... I just wanted to know if you were feeling any better. That's all, my love."

A small smile curled up onto Lance's features as he looked at Shiro, his eyes only barely adjusted to the dark enough to see his face.

"I'm... I'm alright, I think," he said softly. "Thank you." He moved to lie back down, getting comfy, though he no longer felt quite as distant. Just content where he was- but he wasn't quite content enough to lose the distance between himself and his boyfriend. Hopefully, he would feel better tomorrow but for now... he wasn't sure. "Are you finding it hard to sleep?"

Shiro, smiling himself at the new warmth in Lance's tone, gave a little huff of laughter. "Maybe," he said in a soft hum. "Just a little too thoughtful all of a sudden, that's all..."

He turned around again, laying on his back and watching the ceiling. "I was almost starting to think you were mad at me or something," he said in a joking little huff. Shiro gave a soft sigh and closed his eyes, reaching down to idly pet on Blue some more. "But I didn't know. I don't think I've done anything too bad in the past few days. Maybe I swept some dust under the carpet or something but nothing too crazy."

"Nah, it's not to do with you," Lance reassured him softly. "No dust or anything about you has pissed me off, so don't worry." He kept his eyes on Shiro, a soft but warm look in his eyes. "I honestly... I don't know what's happening. I wish I did, but- but I don't. Am I supposed to? Do you think that there's an issue behind why I'm feeling this way? Or... I don't know. It's stressful to think about." He liked seeing Shiro like this. God knows what had him so upset, but with the faint glow of the light from the bathroom, Lance could see the outline of his face. The defined features, his furrowed eyebrows, the way his eyes shined as he stared up at the ceiling. He let out a quiet sigh, getting comfy somewhere that he could see Shiro. A little warmth bloomed in his chest.

Each time he looked at Shiro in a new place, a new situation, with some new lighting or makeup or whatever... it felt like he was falling for him all over again.

Idly, Lance reached over. He reached for Shiro's hand, but the thought of contact repulsed him so he just hooked their pinkies together gently. Slowly, and it was only a loose hold, but it meant the world to him right now.

It meant the world to Shiro too. His weak smile became a fond one, his eyes drifting to a comfortable close at the touch of their fingers. He tried to keep his relief in check, though, Lance's words and Lance's quiet tone reminding him that something was wrong. Reminding him that there was a reason Lance laid so far away from him.

"I... I don't know, Lance," he said quietly, fluttering open his eyes and turning his head. "It could be a bunch of things... maybe you're homesick, you know? It's been like four months since we left. I get to feeling a little off sometimes when I think about all the time that has passed... maybe it's all just starting to sink in on you?"

Lance had been looking at him intently as he spoke, his soft eyes and his gently furrowed brow just about making Shiro's tired heart swoon. Shiro pushed up a little so he leaned in his elbows, looking down at Lance, who looked so beautiful and kind as he laid there in that lame light. Their pinkies were still linked, the contact still making Shiro's heart warm and light. "Would you like me to ask Lotor about your parents or something next time I go to call him? He's got eyes on pretty much everything... I'm sure he could see how their doing for you. I don't know about contacting them but... yeah..." Shiro trailed off, falling a little quiet. He shook his head a little and went on. "Maybe I can even get him to say you can call Hunk. That'll probably help you feel a little better, right?"

Lance watched him for a few moments after he had finished talking. He'd fallen silent, keeping his eyes on Shiro, a small smile on his lips.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I'd like that. I'd like that a lot. Yeah- It- It's probably just homesickness. That'd be fair. I've lived in three different places in the last six months, so it would make sense." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, sighing a little. "God I wish I could go to sleep. I just want to- I kinda just wish I could fall asleep. I think my brain just needs a little while to recharge. Could you cover my shift at the shop in the morning until I wake up, babe?" He gave a small squeeze to Shiro's pinky finger, smiling warmly up at him. "Because I think that some sleep will do me the world of good, you know? It'd help me a lot."

Lance spent a few long moments just getting comfy, wrapping himself up in bed, settling down in their plush mattress. "I love you, Shiro," he finally said. "I love you so much. I'm- I'll try and go to sleep now."


	41. Nightmares Abound

Shiro had woken up early the next morning. It was about five o'clock in the morning when he had fluttered his eyes open, and pushed up from the bed, a long, tired yawn rising from his throat and from his mouth. Lance was deep asleep beside him -- as was Blue and as was Black. The room seemed dead silent aside from the easy metronome of those in heavy slumber, and Shiro's own, comparably irregular breaths. It was dark behind their pulled blinds. He could only just hear the faint twittering of only one morning bird, maybe two. The room was overcast in shadows and obscurity, one that made Shiro's groggy system shiver and his skin crawl. His eyes traveled to the seemingly sublime yellow glow of their bathroom light, and was instantly drawn to it, slipping from his bed slowly as to keep from waking Lance up from his sleep.

He wandered to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. It was chilly in there -- the window had been left open just a crack overnight. Teeth clattering behind his lips, Shiro made his way to the window and pulled it down. The hinges squeaked, and Shiro jumped, casting a quick gaze at the door. He shook his head a little and grumbled to himself about getting those damn windows fixed or something.

Even though it was about four hours earlier than his normal wake up time, Shiro found himself falling into step of his normal morning routine. He relieved himself, undressed himself, showered, brushed his teeth, and then got dressed again in the bedroom. It was nothing but a pair of joggers and a large, baggy old sweatshirt, but it was presentable enough for the day, he supposed. Shiro looked to the bed and studied Lance a moment, wondering whether or not to wake him up. He decided against it with a gentle shake of his head. Lance was upset. He needed his rest.

Shiro went downstairs.

He refrained from flipping the sign to open, knowing the only people out and about were the early morning joggers and some of the bike-riders. Instead, he traveled over to the counter, pulled up that roller-wheeled chair they had for Lance, and plopped down in it, swinging his feet up upon the counter. Lance would always scold him for doing so, but it was comfortable. Sitting the right way in chairs was never any fun. He leaned back, groped at the handle for the mini fridge tucked beneath the counter, and pulled out an apple and a juice pouch. Breakfast.

Shiro sat and ate rather idly, expecting a boring morning and a boring day. He could feel it in the Monday atmosphere. He'd go out hunting for some jobs later if Lance didn't need him. Anything to keep his mind occupied, he supposed.

Boring days were the worst kinds of days...

That monday was no boring day.

"N-no- No-!" The whimpers became audible. Lance, lying on the bed, was squirming. He kicked his legs weakly, getting them tangled up in blanket after blanket. Blue was up, jumping around on the bed, dashing around the bed and then leaping up to the mattress and barking at Lance, who began getting more frantic with his erratic and panicked movements. He was trembling, pale like he just saw a ghost, his hands clutching the sheets so tightly his knuckles were as white as his cheeks.

Suddenly, he sat up. A scream tore free from his throat, loud and animalistic and full of raw, primal fear. His eyes were wide, panicked, and tears were spilling down his cheeks. They'd stained the pillow, leaving little splotches on it, and still rolled down Lance's cheeks. He was hyperventilating, gasping for breath, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and curling up, his knees to his chest. Blue approached, dashing over and sniffing his face. He looked up at her, hesitantly beginning to pet the top of her head as she kissed his face, licking his cheeks and his ear and his hands, trying to comfort him. It wasn't working.

He was shaken to his core.

His dream, his nightmare, as fleeting as the memories were- he knew what he had dreamt of.

Sendak.

His dream had come in phases. First, he had suffocated Sendak. He'd held the man to his chest, as he had done last time, and suffocated him until he had died. He felt the warmth leave his body. He felt him thrash. The nails digging into his arms were so realistic- it wasn't until now that Lance noticed the little splotches of blood under his nails and along his forearms. Ah- that was where the sensation had come from.

He couldn't get over how it had felt to end someone's life like that. He couldn't get over how it felt to release someone outside of a controlled self-defence environment where they'd pull back, compliment his grip, and let him move on. This wasn't a class. This wasn't the academy. This was real life. He'd murdered a man and he hadn't thought twice. He could still remember the look he saw in Shiro's eyes- the fear, the shock- when Lance had pulled Sendak back and suffocated him.

After that- after watching Sendak's life fade from his body, he had been back in that warehouse. In that fucking room. Stood there, dead still, though this time he was unarmed. He held his hands either side of his head. Sendak had held the gun at him and he cried out for Shiro- but his seat was empty. He screamed for Shiro, he cried out for his boyfriend to come and saved him. Lance's throat felt raw. He hadn't been screaming, but he'd surely strained his throat somehow. Sendak had pulled the trigger without Shiro there to stop him. He closed his eyes before the bullet hit him, cowering back, only to open his eyes and see Shiro's unforgiving glare. It was in his apartment. He was lying there, on his couch, with Blue on her bed on the floor.

He looked up and met Shiro's eyes, watching him hold tightly to the gun. He couldn't remember what he had said. Lance had been pleading for his life, begging, talking about the family that would miss him and the friends that would mourn for him but Shiro... This wasn't Shiro.

This man took the shot. This man pulled the trigger without a hint of mercy. This man was the man who had hit him during an argument, who had gone drinking and come back sickly and drunk. Not the man that lay on Lance's lap after vomiting, letting Lance play with his hair and soothe him until he fell asleep.

He had woken up after reimagining their paint-fight. Though instead of a paintbrush, Lance held a gun- a glock 17, the typical gun for newbie cops in the NYPD- and he pointed it at Shiro. His words had been sharp, malicious, not playful and light. Shiro's response hadn't been teasing. He'd easily had Lance restrained, like in real life, except then he held a knife to his throat. Lance's giddy pleading had become desperate, choked, sobbing pleads. "I can't die here," he would choke out. "Please, my family need me!"

He'd felt the knife dragged across his throat and just begun to see his blood decorate the baby blue walls. He'd collapsed to the floor, his hands on his throat, when Shiro had straddled his chest and slammed the blade into his skull. At the exact second of impact, Lance had woken up

His mind had filled his thoughts with poisonous trickery. He'd been drugged with the idea that he had died, that he could have died. That Shiro would have willingly pulled the trigger, looking dead into his eyes. That Shiro and Kuro weren't separate.

For one very sick, short moment, Lance had been fooled into believing that none of it was real. All of this was to give him a fleeting sensation of hopefulness.

And it was difficult to bring himself to the realisation that all of this had stemmed from the repressed psychological impact of murdering Sendak. He didn't regret murdering Sendak. He didn't regret saving Shiro's life and preserving his own life at the same time, but... but- he hadn't thought it through before doing it. And now he was dealing with the consequences of becoming a murderer.

He didn't know how Shiro lived with himself for everything he had done.

Just from this one event, Lance was curled up on the bed, drenched in a cold sweat, his skin pale and his hands trembling. He hadn't even realise that he'd begun screaming "Shiro, help!" until the burning of his raw throat and the aching in his lungs made it clear how his voice strained. His blood was dripping down his arms where it had yet to dry or where Lance had accidentally reopened them, and Blue was yapping and barking at the door to the stairway like it would convince Shiro to come quicker.

Thankfully the shop was empty, so nobody would hear Pike screaming the not-name of his husband. Nobody would hear Lance screaming the name of his not-husband.

Nobody would have to be pushed aside or made to wait because Shiro was urgently, desperately needed to calm Lance down right now.

"Lance!"

The second he heard the scream he had jumped up -- the second he heard the way Lance called to him so desperate and so afraid and so pained, he moved without thinking. Shiro had made his way upstairs in a flash, bursting his way through the doorway to the staircase, his eyes wild, his heart beating hard in his chest. In an instant he found Lance on the bed, curled in on himself, gasping and wheezing and sobbing. Something sharp and angry pierced through Shiro's heart at the sounds Lance had been making, that immobilizing burn rendering him useless for a second.

A second -- nothing more. No, no he didn't let himself falter for any more than a mere beat of his rapid heart. After his instant of paralyzed fear and heartbreak, Shiro rushed to the side of the bed, Lance's name leaving his name in a repetitive string accompanied with shaky 'what wrong?'s and concerned 'hey, hey's. Shiro crouched down beside the bed, his hand finding Lance's shoulder to try and turn him his way to make sure he hadn't been hurt. His touch was delicate and tender, but it was firm. Protective. Shiro pulled Lance 's side around to face him, and then ran his eyes up and down Lance's quaking, hunching form. Finding nothing but a few crescent shaped marks and scratches about his arms -- the marks he easily assumed were caused by Lance's own hands -- Shiro flicked his wide gaze up to Lance's face.

Tears rolled down his paled cheeks. His eyes were wide and blank -- glazed over with the pure look of terror and shock. His mouth was open, most of his words incoherent to Shiro aside from the weak murmuring of his own name.

Shiro knew the look. He knew the feeling. He knew it all.

Lance had just woken up from a night terror.

Shiro placed his other hand on Lance's other shoulder, holding him steady and firm with both hands, making sure the slight squeeze of his fingers was more of a reassuring hold than any sort of trap or confinement. He leaned a little closer to Lance's face, trying to lock Lance's dazed eyes with his own -- trying to gain his attention.

"Lance," he said firmly, swallowing hard. "Lance? Hey, listen to me. Come on. It's okay. I'm here. You're alright. It was a dream Lance. God... I... I swear Lance you're alright. It was just a dream."

He wanted to hug him close and tight. He wanted to squeeze every last bit of fear from Lance's system. He wanted Lance to know how safe he would be with him -- how safe and how perfect and how protected he would be in Shiro's arms. He wanted hold Lance close to him and promise to never ever let go! He would never! He would always be there to protect him from the evil in the world! He'd rather die than let anything happen to Lance and Lance needed to know that. He wanted all of that because that's all the sorts of things Shiro would want to have after waking from a nightmare... but... but Lance wasn't Shiro. Lance was overwhelmed by contact. Shiro wouldn't enclose him in his arms unless Lance let him -- and in the state Lance had been in right then and right there Shiro was sure he wouldn't have been able to give a clear answer if Shiro asked. The hands on Lance's shoulders were probably already reaching a limit of Lance's Shiro dared not to cross... but he couldn't find himself able to just let him go. He had to hold him steady. He had to give him... give him something.

He had to show Lance that he was there.

All he could have done was try to get Lance's focus. To try anything he could to soothe Lance's erratic breathing. To try anything to get Lance to listen to him.

"Shh, shh. It's alright Lance," he said, voice growing a little more desperate. "I'm right here. Nothing... nothing can hurt you alright? I-I'm here and I've got you and I love you and I promise nothing from your dream can... can ever come near you again, okay?" Shiro was groping for things to say, thinking back to his own feelings from his own nightmares and inspiring comfort from there. "You're safe, alright? I'm safe, you're safe -- everybody is safe. It's alright, Lance... It's alright..."

Lance looked up at him, like he was only finally recognising that Shiro was there. He held out one trembling hand, curling it into a fist and offering Shiro his pinky. After everything he had seen in his dream, he needed to make sure that this was his Shiro. He couldn't relax, he couldn't listen to anything that Shiro said, until he knew that this was his Shiro.

The images from his nightmare, night terror, whatever, they'd terrified him. They were still so vivid when they filled his mind, even if their presence was fleeting. It made his hands shake and his eyes were wide with unfiltered fear.

Shiro instantly understood. He leaned back a little, released the hold of his left hand on Lance's shoulder, and brought his pinkie to Lance's. He linked them, flicking his eyes back up to Lance, working the inside of his cheek with his hard molars.

The second that he had that contact, though, Lance's breathing began to steady a noticeable amount. He was a rigidly tense, keeping his eyes on Shiro as if to make sure he didn't have a knife or some kind of weapon that could let Shiro take advantage of this vulnerability.

His breathing slowly calmed, settled, when he was able to reassure himself that Shiro wasn't going to kill him. Shoulders slumping, a lot of tension left his body.

"Shiro- Sh-Shiro- I-" He pulled him close, clinging to him, the closeness beginning to soothe his nerves. Lance's body was trembling like a leaf but Shiro's hold was comforting, soothing, and it encouraged him to relax in his arms. Just feeling Shiro's warmth and hearing his heartbeat was soothing his anxious nerves.

He was soon calm. Calmer, anyway. His shoulders had been slumped, the suddenly lacking tension leaving him damn near limp in Shiro's arms. He didn't say anything else just yet, needing to reorganise his thoughts before he even considered speaking about what had happened.

Shiro stayed quiet as well, holding Lance close. He rubbed his one hand in slow circled about Lance's back, using the other to keep his hold somewhat firm and assuring. He was rather silent aside from his occasional shushing, a sound he gently blew from his lips when whenever Lance would hiccup or gasp. They stayed like that for a while.

Minutes passed and clumped together. It would be six soon — six fifteen was opening, usually. Shiro suppressed a slight cringe when he remembered the shop downstairs, wondering if Lance was in any condition to work that day... most days following a rough nightmare were always hard. For Shiro anyways.

He spoke, quiet. Just barely over a whisper to keep from frightening the still shaky Lance. He still felt Lance's breath hitch a little, but it soothed back out in a matter of seconds. "If you want me to work the shop today, I will," he murmured. "Better yet, we could just be closed for today. Call off sick. It's whatever you want to do, my love."

Lance's eyes fixed on Shiro. He nodded a little. "I think that would be best," he mumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at his hair a little to pull the knots out. "Yeah," he nodded, agreeing with himself. "Yeah, we need a break. I think we should be closed today." He wiped his eyes a little.

He didn't know how to organise his thoughts. Should he tell Shiro? Should he wait a little bit? He glanced to Shiro. "You should, uh... you should probably put something up to say that we'll be closed today," he mumbled. Having the shop closed was already making him feel guilty but it was necessary. He had to remind himself that. It was necessary to take a break.

Shiro nodded. "Yeah, of course," he said quietly. "I'll go get that taken care of." He gave Lance one soft little squeeze with his arm, and began to move away.

He settled back a little, one hand on his forehead, but when Shiro began to move away he suddenly pulled him back.

"My nightmare was about Sendak," he blurted impulsively, needing to get it out. The name tasted vile on his tongue. "And- and you. You and Sendak and- and-" he took a shuddering breath. "Put something up and I'll tell you what happened when I get back. Okay?" He gave a soft squeeze to Shiro's hand before pulling back, settling back down under the covers.

Shiro's brow was furrowed, eyes rounded with soft concern. Sendak? Sendak was... he was gone. Lance was safe from him... there was nothing to worry about. Why would Sendak scare him so much out of nowhere? Hell, Lance was the one to kill him so-

Oh.

Shiro had to turn away from Lance, the realization spilling across his features was all too obvious. His lips fixed themselves into a shaky frown as he stood up, eyes narrowed as he bitterly tried to force the reaction back. It took a second or so, but when he was able to bite back his pained facial features, Shiro turned back around, and offered Lance the weakest of wan smiles.

"I'll be right back up," he said in a soft sort of tone, nodding his head. Shiro stood himself up, and started his way towards the staircase, walking a slow way backwards to keep his eyes upon Lance. "Is there... is there anything I could get you while I'm up?" Shiro nodded to the kitchen. "I could get you some water or something? There's, uh, also juice in the mini-fridge."

"If you could get me a hot chocolate, I'd appreciate that. I need a hot chocolate right now," he said softly as he kept his eyes on Shiro. He took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently before finally letting him leave. What was he going to do today? He felt so miserable. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to drag Shiro down with this burden. Shiro didn't see it as such a big thing! He was a fucking murderer! He'd done worse than Lance suffocating someone out of self-defence and he hadn't bat an eyelid. He was probably rolling his eyes at how pathetic Lance was being right now.

Hopefully he'd get over it soon. Hopefully.

Either way, he'd need to move on sometime soon. He didn't have a choice.

Shiro nodded again, said a quiet goodbye, and then made his way to the kitchen. They had some regular old hot chocolate mix in the pantry — Shiro remembered from the other night when they both had two steaming glasses together during the first and very late snow of the year. He dug out a packet, grabbed a mug from the cupboard above the sink, and began mixing it all together. Shiro poured in the milk and then the mix, stirred, and then set the mug in the microwave and set the timer for a minute. Lance had made their glasses from the other night on the stove but Shiro forgot to dishes the night before and their metal kettle was dirty. He also lacked the basic knowledge of working with that stove anyways... he couldn't risk messing it up. The microwave would have to do.

With the timer going, Shiro slipped out of the kitchen and continued down the stairs, snatching up a blank sheet of paper from a shelf behind the counter, and writing out a quick little note in heavy black marker. He wrote out that the shop would be closed for the day due to illness or whatever, went to the door, opened it, and taped the little note above the closed sign. Shiro shut the door tight, locked it, and turned off the porch lights. Above him the microwave cried out its shrill, piercing scream.

Finally, he was back beside Lance, offering him the steaming cup of hot chocolate freshly equipped with two marshmallows and a large top coat of whipped cream. Shiro made sure Lance had a firm grasp on the cup, noting how his hands still trembled and his fingers still quivered, and then leaned back in his spot.

"Alright," Shiro said quietly. "Signs up. Hot chocolate is made." He gave a weak smile, rising up his shoulders a little bit. "We're all good, yeah?" Lance nodded, shifting over to let Shiro in beside him.

He moved to slip his legs beneath the blankets, getting comfortable beside Lance. The smell of the hot chocolate and the melting whipped cream was simply mouth watering. Shiro secretly wished he had his own glass... but he wouldn't get up again. His head reminded him of Lance's earlier mumblings, and Shiro felt himself focus back upon the situation again, his smile fading just a bit.

"I, uh... I really understand if you don't want to talk about it," Shiro murmured, nodding his head. "But if... if you do I'll listen, okay? Whatever it is I doubt it'll freak me out or anything. I... I understand the whole, uh, fucked up subconscious thing." Lance glanced up at him, letting his head rest on his shoulder.

"It was just... It was a lot of different things. I remembered when we met at the warehouse but- but you weren't there. Sendak shot me and... and when I opened my eyes, you were in my apartment with me. But- but you didn't back out of the mission. You took the shot." He curled up a little more, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. It was hot and burned his tongue a little bit but he had bigger things on his mind right now. It tasted good, though. Sweet. It was a little piece of comfort.

Whenever he had a nightmare back at home, he would get a hot chocolate recipe that Hunk had sent him and he'd make himself one. It was a rare treat but it comforted him. Though this wasn't as good, it was still sweet that Shiro had gone through with getting him one. It just provided him with the little extra reassurance he needed that this was his Shiro, who wasn't the kind of person to do anything that had happened in his nightmare. It soothed him. He was still a little on edge, but he was hoping that just being able to relax today would help calm him down properly.

"It was just a bit overwhelming. I- I think that I'll try to sleep again in a little bit, but for now I just want to stay with you. Y'know, until I've calmed down."

Shiro watched him for a moment or so, feeling his system sink down lower and lower. Lance had dreamed about him... Shiro had been the thing that had hurt him. It made his skin almost buzz guiltily wherever their skin would touch. Was he the reason Lance had shot up screaming? Was he the monster hiding in Lance's subconscious? Shiro thought of what he said earlier about not getting freaked out... but it took a few seconds to uphold that promise, his face a little paler when he turned to look away. When he found his voice, it was dry and weak. Shiro attempted to speak, failed, and the. cleared his throat before trying again.

"That's alright," he half-whispered, nodding his head. "Sleep is probably good..."

Shiro hesitated a quick second before turning back, his gaze softer. "You're thinking about Sendak..." he said, a statement more for himself to clarify aloud than anything. He disregarded the bit about himself... just for then. "You're feeling guilty... aren't you? I... God, I wish I understood better. I wish I could help you through this, Lance..." He paused for a long while, chewing on the inside of his cheek, reopening the old wounds.

"Whenever I... whenever I used to get guilty I would... I dunno. Get high or something. Go out. Distract myself if I wasn't too tired or unmotivated to get up." Shiro spoke clearly. Confidently. He might not have remembered what it was like to deal with a first kill... but he knew what it was like to deal with the deaths of many hanging over his shoulders, weighing him down. "It... it's better to keep yourself busy. When you start thinking about it too long, it really starts to get to you. All of it..." Shiro looked at Lance and gave him a firm, assuring nod. "If you need me to do anything to help, I will. I promise. If you want me to fuck off and leave you alone I'll do that too. It's whatever you need, Lance. I've got you."

Lance glanced up at him, offering up a little smile.

"No, no, I- I don't want you to leave," he said as he shifted a little closer. "I think I need you here with me. I don't think that I'll be able to relax without you." He let his head rest on Shiro's chest as he finished his hot chocolate. He set the mug down on the bedside table, wrapping both arms around his boyfriend and closing his eyes. He let out soft breaths, regular, calm. He was already feeling so much better. And Shiro's gentle reassurance that he wasn't going to leave, and that everything would be okay... They meant the world to him right now. It was all that he needed to hear.

He had taken ahold of Shiro's hand. The prosthetic. He began playing with the fingers again, just bending them and moving them. His eyes flickered to Shiro.

"This is going to be a really dumb question, but can you feel it when I do this?" he asked, liking to see how the metal fingers moved, intrigued by their mechanisms. They were almost frictionless and smooth to the touch. He'd not really been able to just sit back and admire it that much. Well- he'd been able to, he just hadn't paid enough attention to.

Shiro gave a soft little huff of a laugh, though his smile seemed sad, and his eyes grew a little more tired. "I wish I could," he said dismally, shaking his head a little. "It would be so nice to be able to feel your touch with both my hands. Makes me almost angry I can't. Totally unfair." He smirked a little, a shrugged his shoulders, eyes flicking to Lance's hands toying with those mechanical fingers. "I can't feel anything on this. It was weird at first because my old one was connected to my shoulder so I could, like, feel the vibrations whenever I'd touch something or hit something or move my hand. But this one is just kinda there, you know?" Lance just nodded along, smiling softly.

Carefully, he loosely wrapped his free arm around Lance's back, just to hold him there and hold him closer. "If I have one real complaint," he started, his voice growing a little more teasing with the word real. "It's that. But even then I don't mind. I guess sorta feeling things was a tease, anyways. All or nothing, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Lance said as he pressed into Shiro's neck, still idly holding his hand. "It's cool, though. Your new hand. I like it a lot." He got a little comfier on Shiro's lap, sighing softly, bringing the blanket up past his neck. He was sinking slowly into his bed, succumbing further each time he got comfy or shifted and pulled the blanket up. "It's got some cool features, too. I mean- not that many people would have a prosthetic arm that vibrates and heats up and whatever else, right?"

He looked up at Shiro, running one hand through his hair. "You seem tired," he mumbled. "Maybe you should take a little bit of a break, too. Relax. We can have a nap together. I think that that sounds perfect, don't you?"

"Sounds pretty perfect to me, too," Shiro answered in a soft hum, reaching to Lance's face, cupping his cheek in his hand. The bruise on his cheekbone was gone completely... but somehow Shiro could still see the ghost of it. The fight had happened so long ago... but the guilt still felt as present as ever. Shiro looked at him a long moment or so, wanting to kiss him but feeling too guilty to do so. After a moment or so of that painful hesitation, Shiro internally said screw it and pressed a tender kiss to Lance's forehead.

"Let's nap for the rest of the Goddamn day, huh?" he murmured, pulling his kiss back. "We deserve a hooky day."

Lance grabbed the back of Shiro's head and pulled him down, pressing their lips together without a second of hesitation. "I want proper kisses," he said softly as he pulled back. "Come on..." he pressed into her neck. "Come on, handsome, let's have our nap."

He settled back down, closing his eyes as he pressed up against Shiro. "Come on," he said sweetly. "We need our nap, and I'm not going to go to sleep if you're not cuddling me. Okay?" He got nicely settled on Shiro's chest, closing his eyes, content in his place. Now he was just waiting to see if Shiro would submit to his demands, like he needed.

Shiro gave a soft chuckle, and pulled Lance close into cuddles, curling up around Lance in a fond act of spooning. He didn't bother to say anything, instead keeping quiet, focusing on the ironing out of Lance's breath. Shiro, despite his sudden exhaustion, didn't let himself fall asleep until Lance had. Even when he knew for certain that Lance was in a simple little slumber, he waited to make sure he didn't stir or toss about — wanting to know a hundred percent his boyfriend would be sleeping soundly and safely. Once he was sure Lance had been okay, he drifted off into his own, almost restless sleep. It was a light sort of sleep, a delicate, nervous one, disturbed by the air conditioning switching on or even the patter of the heavy rain.

The next few weeks that passed, Lance had been a little better. Every now and then Shiro would shake him from a nightmare, and he could tell there were days his eyes were a little darker, but he got better. At least that's what Shiro figured... at least that was what Shiro hoped.

Lance was okay... yeah. Yeah, Lance was okay.

Shiro didn't know if he could say the same about himself.

That night and that morning with Lance had switched something. Snapped something. Triggered something. Seeing him so scared after so many months of peace and calm had made something inside Shiro change. Of course, outward he was the same reliable Kuron — a stable man with ever changing jobs to support his working husband. Inside — inside his head and inside his chest and inside his system — Shiro felt as though everything has slowly been falling apart.

He was nervous. He was nervous all the time. Every time the little bell of the door would jingle, Shiro's eyes would flick up in nervous fear. He checked the windows and the doors, looking out onto the street and he other houses in search of a familiar face. He stopped going out as often for work, only leaving when people asked him to rather than actively searching for a job. His calls to Lotor became less frequent — thinning to once every four weeks just about. Shiro stayed by Lance's side nearly twenty four seven, both out of his primal instinct of protecting him, and out of the desperate fear of being alone.

He was angry at himself mostly for changing so suddenly. He was angry at his head and his nerves. He was... he was just angry. It was a low thrum of anger that resonated deep in his chest, barely noticeable some of the time, but still present. Always present. Shiro hadn't felt that angry in a long while... maybe the last time he felt so despondently furious was in his own apartment.

He wasn't sleeping. Not properly anyways. That was the big problem he found himself facing. Sure, he'd nap here and there, usually during the day, but a full night's rest suddenly became something seldom. Shiro couldn't let himself sleep. Whenever he did, he'd inevitably end up shooting up straight in bed sometime late a night, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

His new series of nightmares was nearly unbearable. For one thing, he remembered each and every one down to the minutest detail. Every look on every face. Every word from Lance's lips. Every ricocheting echo of the bang of the gunshot. Every speck of blood... all of the blood...

It was a repeat of his dream from the surgery, but it was different. Twisted. Zarkon was still Zarkon, but he was different. Darker. Scarier if it was even fucking possible. Shiro was still Shiro but he was weaker. More helpless. He couldn't even beg. Adam wasn't Adam — no.

Adam was Lance.

It went down the same way. Shiro was hurt. Zarkon threatened him. Lance was killed. Over and over and over again, as though it had been clockwork. Every night he let himself sleep the dream appeared without fail. Some nights he would awake with a scream and Lance would comfort him. Most nights he snapped out of it silently — a gasp or a whimper, but with quiet tears and quiet terror. Those nights he'd stumble his way into the bathroom, and wait the fear out on the cool tiling before going back to bed with the sleeping Lance.

Six weeks passed and Shiro just seemed to worsen. Every time Lance would ask, however, he'd shrug and just say he was never any good at sleeping and that his bags and dark eyes were normal. Lance's life was finally perfect. Lance's dream was finally reality. Shiro wasn't going to screw it up with his baggage... no he'd already screwed enough up.

Lance didn't need to worry about him...

There was one night, however, Lance was particularly pushy. It was the night before Shiro's monumental screw up — the screw up he would proceed to make after waking up from one of his last and worst nightmares of those six weeks. They had been in bed and Shiro was playing some game on his phone, tired, bloodshot eyes watching his screen while Lance spoke to him.

"Lance, it's fine," he had said after awhile of listening to his scolding. "I have trouble sleeping. It's been like this forever. That's common knowledge at this point. I'm just going through a bad patch. I'll just go to the doctor or something for some sleeping pills or something."

"It's not fine! You've been having trouble sleeping for a month! Promising me you'll get sleeping pills 'or something' eventually won't stop me from worrying!" He said loudly, gritting his teeth. "Shiro, we haven't slept in the same bed for weeks! You've been out and about or just tidying or reading or whatever! I'm sick of worrying about you, and I'm sick of you just brushing me off when I worry!"

He sighed irritably, moving back, beginning to pace rhythmically back and forth. He was tense and it showed, his shoulders hunched up and his hands curled into fists. "What am I meant to do? Just let this get worse until I have to cart you to the doctors myself? Or do you think I'll just leave you to promise me that you're okay until I have to take you to a fucking hospital?!" he questioned, his voice raising. He was just worried about Shiro and the stress of worrying about his boyfriend and being lied to so consistently was beginning to get to him.

He moved over to Shiro, plucking the phone out of his hands, using one hand to press him against the couch.

"Look at you! You've got bloodshot eyes and you've got bags under your eyes! Take away the bleached hair and you look exactly the same as when I moved in with you." He sat beside Shiro, taking ahold of his hand, looking into his eyes. "Shiro, please, I just want to help. Just tell me what's wrong."

Shiro looked off the side. What was he supposed to say? That he was too afraid to sleep? That he couldn't make it through another night of watching Lance's brain get shot from his skull? No. No. Lance was already worried about him. Shiro couldn't worry him more what all that dark shit in his head.

Lance was already dealing with his own nightmares. He didn't need to think about Shiro's terrifying subconscious too.

"I... I just go through these things sometimes," he said weakly, not allowing himself to meet Lance's eyes back. "I don't know what to do or what to tell you, Lance. I'll call the doctor tonight, okay?"

There was a pause, Shiro's skin crawling, pinned beneath Lance's stare. Was he lying to him? Was he breaking his promise pushing Lance away like that? Well... well he wasn't lying. He was just... making things sound better than they were. Yeah, Shiro went through rough periods with his anxiety, but that period was particularly rough... Yeah, Shiro would call the doctor, but he wasn't too interested in medications at all... It was just... positively stating the obvious in a way that didn't make it too scary.

Shiro gave a gentle sigh, and turned to look at Lance, gathering the confidence to look him in the eyes again. "I'm sorry, Lance," he said earnestly, furrowing his brow. "I'm so sorry I'm making you worry... I... I'm just going through something. That's all. It'll go away and I'll be back to normal. I... I'll even sleep tonight, okay? I'll try." Shiro gave a quick sigh and shook his head. "I just hate it when you worry about me. You shouldn't, alright? Your hair will go white worrying about all this shit wrong with me." He tried to laugh a little, forcing the mood a little brighter.

Lance cupped his cheek.

"Shiro, apologising for making me worry won't stop me from worrying. I'm your boyfriend. I'm your not-husband husband. It's my job to worry about you. Seeing you this stressed and knowing that you haven't slept in so long- it's... it's worse than worrying. It makes me nauseous and... And I really just want you to feel better." He wrapped his arms around Shiro, holding him close. "Come to bed with me tonight. We can sleep together again, and if anything happens, I'll be right there with you." He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Shiro's mouth.

He pulled back finally, stretching with his arms over his head. "And you better call the doctor tonight. If you don't, I'm going to call them for you." Lance could tell something was off with what Shiro was saying but... but he didn't want to read into it. Naturally, he assumed that Shiro just wasn't comfortable telling him much more just yet so he shouldn't really pressure him to say anything else but- but that didn't mean that it didn't sicken him to think that Shiro was hiding something from him. "I love you, Shiro. Please, look after yourself."

A relieved smile broke across Shiro's features, his whole body slumping a bit at Lance's acceptance. "I love you too," he murmured, pushing himself to a stand from the couch. "Don't worry, Lance. I'm used to all of this. I'll take care of myself."

He stepped close to Lance, pulling him back into another short hug. During that hug — that warmth and that comfort — Shiro felt his exhaustion fall over him in one nearly fatal draping. He released a great sigh, legging his head hang and his body sag a bit. "I'll call the doctor," he murmured in a tired slur, pulling back. As he pulled back, he took his phone from Lance, opening it up and searching the town clinic's number. When he found it, he keyed it in, and looked up to Lance. "You go to bed baby. I'll just be in the kitchen, okay?"

"Okay," he said softly. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Shiro moved back to the kitchen and called the doctor. It was a short call — the secretary only asked for his name, age, reason for calling, and his soonest availability. Shiro told him everything, and scheduled an appointment for just the next day. He thanked the secretary, nodded, and hung up. Shiro morosed his way back into the bedroom, and crawled his dreary way into bed beside Lance, releasing another long, tired sigh.

"I'm going to the doctor tomorrow," he hummed, reaching over to wrap Lance up in a cuddle. "Three o'clock."

Lance pressed into Shiro, burying his face in his neck and closing his eyes. "Good," he mumbled. He pressed a little closer as he ran his fingers through Shiro's soft hair. "Thank you, Shiro." He cupped his cheek and leant in, pressing his lips to Shiro's for a short and sweet moment. He settled back down again moments later. He pressed into Shiro's neck yet again, snuggled up against his boyfriend. Blue soon jumped up beside them, Black in her mouth, and set the cat down before snuggling up himself. The small family that they had was all Lance needed right now.

He stayed close to Shiro, his mind blank with contentedness, and he slowly allowed himself to relax. This was truly all that he needed. Just to be close to his boyfriend.

He was asleep merely minutes later.

Despite Shiro's incredible exhaustion, it took him a little longer to will himself into slumber. He was apprehensive. Nervous. It took a lot of his own reassuring to let his eyes close and his body relax beside Lance, his hand unconsciously reaching for Lance's to hold. Forty-five minutes later, Shiro fell asleep too.

Four hours later he awoke with a gasp.

Shiro, like usual, pushed up on the bed, both hands going right to his face — one on his mouth to stifle his haggard breathing, the other to his temple to try and soothe that slamming migraine. He gasped through his fingers, tears rolling from his eyes. He'd been crying for a while — crying in his sleep. The pillow behind him was wet with tear stains. His face was red and his skin was raw and his eyes were puffy and irritated. Shiro, trembling so much he almost found it hard to function, slipped from the bed and stumbled his way through the dark, the shadows taunting him as he went.

He sat in the bathroom for an hour, crying to himself. Calming down enough to look at Lance again without seeing his body flash about his eyes. It took longer that night for some reason — maybe it was because it was so dark. The moon had been covered by heavy clouds. They had a lightbulb out in the bathroom, so half the room had been doused in light shadows. Shiro sat by the toilet and wept himself out, feeling weak and angry at himself as soon as he regained any senses.

God. He needed a fucking drink. He needed to smoke. Lance couldn't stop him. He was desperate.

Stupid desperate.


	42. Drunken Mistakes, Again and Again

Lotor was sitting at his desk.

Days, weeks, months had gone by and he was able to eventually get his head on straight again. He focused on his work, as he had done before, and limited his free time (also known as his allocated time to get high in secret) to once every two weeks, on a Thursday. He followed this schedule rigidly to distract himself from how he missed Shiro's presence and how Allura seemed to despise him more with each passing day.

Shiro called him often. Possibly once or twice every other week, once every month, whatever was most convenient for him. What mattered was that Shiro had upheld his promise and called him frequently, but not so frequently that it may seem suspicious.

Allura and Romelle sat on the table by Coran, their fingers intertwined as they held hands and told stories. Allura spoke of her father, of the Arus mafia and how the Altea family ruled it. She spoke fondly of her father. Coran shared his stories, and they spoke of experiences. Alfor had died when Allura was nineteen. Lotor's father had seen to it, and he had been the one to deliver the killing strike.

Lotor wasn't included in the conversation.

In fact, just to ensure that he wouldn't impulsively get himself involved (and killed shortly after for getting involved), he was wearing headphones. Noise-cancelling headphones that played his music so loudly that he wouldn't be able to hear any of them. Not even if they were to shout. It was better for them all that way- they could continue their conversation as if Lotor never existed and Lotor could continue his work without getting into a debate or being accused of posing a threat like his father had. He'd learned from past experiences that keeping silent during times like this was best.

His current project was a shield. He was working on something that would protect the user from all kinds of attacks, that would be easy to move, and held the Arus mafia emblem to give a little pride to his designs. Shiro's arm had one, too, though it was tucked into the underside of his shoulder mechanism. It was small enough not to be noticeable, and lightly engraved with a brush of silver, so it blended in with the white of the arm.

He had just finished adding final details and was about to submit the final result for Allura's criticism when the table began vibrating. He paused his music, pulling off his headphones, seeing that his phone was ringing. He apologised to the three chatting in the centre of the room and brought his phone to his ear. He stepped outside, leaning against the wall. The number was unlisted, but he was safe in Arus territory and had no reason not to answer the calls he received.

"Lotor Daibazaal, who's speaking?"

Shiro gave a deep breath, slumping down upon the counter at the sound of Lotor's voice. He was worrying he wouldn't pick up.

"It's me," Shiro said weakly, his voice slurred as he set the phone down on the counter, tapping the speaker button. The voice made Lotor tense. He hadn't expected to hear Shiro's voice- their last call had only been a matter of days ago.

Shiro was drunk out of his mind.

It hadn't taken a lot of convincing to sneak two bottles of straight vodka downstairs. Hell, it barely took half a thought for him to sneak into the kitchen and then creep down the stairs. He drank shots of the bitter, gag-inducing stuff, just hoping to buzz the fear and dreariness from his system. One after the other he had downed them, growing more and more despondent with each one. Soon it was around three in the morning, and Shiro had been drunk off his ass — wasted and crying to himself again on the counter of the shop.

He was feeling more alone than ever. Lance was asleep upstairs. Blue was asleep upstairs. Black was asleep upstairs. He didn't dare to wake any of them. He didn't dare to ask Lance for help, even if every fiber had been begging, pleading for him to do so. Shiro found himself desperate again, desperate to block out the loud silence of the deadened, darkened shop around him. Desperate for anything. Anyone. Someone. Someone he could talk to — someone who he knew wouldn't judge him for all the getting drunk and keeping secrets and suffering by himself.

Lotor's name had popped into his head. There was no hesitation in dialing the number, and calling him from his very unprotected cell phone.

So, there he was, tear stained face pressed against the cool surface of the counter, the phone laid down beside him, quiet with Lotor's surprise. He didn't have the strength or the mind to go all the way to the payphone. He didn't have the common sense telling him how dangerous it was to call from his cell. He didn't even have proper thought. He just needed to vent. Vent to the man he felt he related to the closest.

"It's me," Shiro repeated, his voice hoarse. He sniffled a little. "Just Shiro. I- hic!- was afraid you wouldn't answer..."

"Shiro, you're not in a good mindset to be calling me right now." Lotor's tone was chastising, shameful. A little bit patronising, in all honesty. "You're intoxicated, you're emotional, I think that we should wait a little while to talk.

He was worried. Of course he was worried! Shiro was calling him drunk and Lotor didn't know if the number it was coming from was traceable or not. "I think we should talk sometime tomorrow, when you're sober." He didn't want to take any risks, but if he didn't talk Shiro down and convince Shiro not to call him again. If Shiro called him repetitively, it would be the same as just calling him consistently. Lotor's mobile was not free from being tracked, not with the technology experts in the Galra mafia who were trained exactly to extract information from phones. Lotor's mobile could always be used to find the phone Shiro was calling for, provided it wasn't a payphone or an alternate phone with good cloaking abilities.

"Please, let's talk another time. I much prefer talking to you when you're sober, Takashi."

Shiro tensed, eyes growing wide. "No! No, Lotor, please," he begged, leaning up to stare into the phone. "Please. Please don't leave me alone. I... I need this. I-"

He broke off into a loud sob, one hand flying to his mouth to stifle it. Shiro tried to swallow back any more, his eyes clenched into a tight close, his whole body trembling with strain. It took a few challenging seconds to collect himself, almost gasping for breath when he managed to force his impending episode down. "I need you to st... I need you to stay, Lotor," he whimpered. "I... I don't know what else to do. Who else to talk to. God! I'm such an idiot. I should have just told Lance what was wrong. I... I shoulda- hic! -told the truth. I-if I tell him now he'll get mad at me and... and I don't want him to get mad at me..."

Shiro was rambling. Barely making any sense. He wasn't sure if Lotor could follow him and his strayed points or not... but he didn't care. He just wanted to hear Lotor tell him he would stay. Just to hear him out for a good moment or so. Just so he could do something with all of that feeling in his body and in his system.

"Woah, Shiro- Wh-What's going on?" he asked, frowning. "There aren't any issues with the two of you, are there?" He took a breath, swallowed back his guilt and his anxiousness and spoke again. "You can tell me about it if it'll help, Takashi. You need this. I'm here to listen to you." It was a little cold outside, and the early January air nipped at Lotor's skin. It wasn't comfortable, but he would much rather be here for Shiro right now that he would go back in to get a jacket. Shiro was one of his closest friends- he didn't want him to feel abandoned while he was already in such an emotionally vulnerable space.

Shiro sniffled, and wiped at his eyes, slumping down. "I don't think so..." he said, voice nasally and quiet. "He's - hic! - been getting on my case about not talking to... to him. He knows somethings wrong with me but I keep saying it's fine even though it's not fucking fine and now it's too late to tell him because he'll know I've been keeping secrets and-" Shiro cut himself off to breath, his fast sentence breathless and desperate.

"I... I'm going fucking crazy, Lotor," he murmured, shaking his head. Shiro closed his eyes. "Do... do you know how gruesome it is to die by a bullet to the head? Do you know how - hic! - how much blood there is? Do you know what brains look like? Do you know how terrifying it was to watch Adam d-die like that? How sick it made me every time I had to kill someone like that? How... how awful it is to see Lance die like that every single fucking time I close my eyes? I can't sleep, Lotor. God, I haven't slept right in weeks! I-I'm so tired... but I can't stop dreaming about Zarkon. It's every night Lotor... every Goddamned night..."

Lotor just listened to his words but nodded. He was... he was more than aware of it. He had witnessed more than enough deaths in the same manner and he'd committed a fair share of them. Not as many as Shiro, surely, but... but more than most others in the mafia had been forced to witness.

He hung his head, crying freely again. He wasn't sobbing too heavily, but his quiet weeping was painful and pathetic enough to make him feel almost worse. "I'm so tired," he echoed. "It's been like six weeks since - hic! - they started. I can't tell Lance because I don't want to force my baggage on him. I can't tell a therapist or what the fuck ever because I can't tell them I'm a wanted criminal. I've just been pretending it isn't there and it's fucking killing me, man."

"It can't be an easy situation," Lotor said calmly, his voice seemingly disconnected from himself. "But you have to be honest with Lance. Lying to him now... It- It won't make this easier. Lying to him will damage your trust further and build up toxicity between the two of you. You can't let this happen. The more you push him back and lie to him, the less he'll engage with you and talk to you. Your nightmares can't be an easy thing to discuss with him, but you need to tell him or it'll only get harder. You might not think that he can help, but he can. He loves you, Shiro. Let him help you."

Lotor's words, calm yet stern, were reassuring. They would help, surely, and following his advice might cause a rocky start but would have a better ending than if Shiro continued to build these lies and a wall between them. "It was the same when I was with Allura. I couldn't voice my tension or stress to her. I lied, and I built up a wall, and look at where that had gotten me. Trust me, Takashi. It will help immensely if you tell him the truth. More than you can even comprehend. It won't be easy right now, but it will help. I don't want to see your current relationship end up like my last."

But... how would Lance react? Lance and Allura weren't the same. Shiro and Lotor weren't the same. They may have acted similarly and had similar perspectives, but- but Lotor saying that Allura would have been a little rough about it and then forgiven him for lying- it couldn't actually be true for him, could it?

He could imagine it. Him confessing that he wasn't sleeping because every time he closed his eyes his worst nightmare came true. He was unable to protect Lance, the same way he hadn't protected Shiro, and he had died for it. Lance would yell at him for lying. Lance would call him untrustworthy, would insult him, would degrade him. Shiro's drunken mind drawled out the situations, milking every last drop of Shiro's anxiety and using it to fuel his worst fears. His intoxicated hallucinations. The only thing that mattered to Shiro was whether or not Lance loved him. If he lost Lance the same way he'd lost Adam, or how he had lost Keith...

"Shiro," Lotor spoke again, having grown tired of the silence. "Talk to him. Trust me on this. If it's bumpy for a little bit, that's much better than losing a relationship you clearly love because you were too hesitant to discuss your fears."

Sniffling again, Shiro nodded, closing his eyes. He breathed in deep, long, and grounding breaths as Lotor spoke to him from his cell phone's speakers. "I just don't want to keep doing this to him," Shiro muttered weakly, letting a few more loose tears slip down his cheeks -- letting them cling to his jaw and slip down his neck without wiping them away. "I hate shoving my baggage on him. I hate it so much... His life is supposed to be perfect here, Lotor. Th-... hic! This was his fucking dream. He wanted this for forever. I don't want to ruin it just because I'm too pathetic to take care of myself... I don't want... I don't want him to spend the rest of his life having to pity me..."

Shiro slumped down onto the counter. He was just about done crying -- his system feeling empty and fragile. Weak, carved out. As if his body had simply been a withered covering... everything inside of him forced out in his previous and embarrassing display.

A husk of a man? Isn't that what Sendak said?

"This was dumb," he murmured after a good collection of silent second. "I... I'm sorry for calling you. I'm sorry. Thanks - hic - thanks for listening to me though... it means a lot right... right now... I'll talk to Lance. When I'm sober... I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow for sleep meds. Maybe I can get some anxiety meds too, or somethin..."

"Yeah," Lotor nodded along. "That's probably best." He sighed softly, glancing to the door. "Ah, perfect timing, Allura is looking for me. Just go and be with Lance. Trust me, he needs you right now, as much as he always did."

"Goodbye, Shiro. I love you."

"Love you too, man," he sniffled back. Shiro didn't hesitate that time — they had been sharing the phrase back and forth ever since Lotor had first dropped it. Even Lance was used to it... though the first few times hearing Shiro say it, he did raise a concerned eyebrow and give Shiro a look. "Thank you... thank you for staying..."

A moment or two of quiet of silence on the call before soft beeping indicated that Lotor had hung up. Silence was heavy with the new absence of Lotor's voice. Only Shiro's quiet, choked sobs were audible. He kept his hands on his face, rubbing at his pounding temples.

Lance was stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Shiro. Red, puffy, full of tears that streamed down his face. It wasn't clear how much of it he had heard. He could have heard all of it, and- and it wasn't even like he'd been hiding himself. God knew how long he had been stood there while Shiro's drunkenness rendered him too fixated on his own issues to even consider looking around to even see Lance, who was deathly silent for a few long moments.

"So," he murmured, snapping Shiro's focus his way, his throat hoarse and dry. "Lotor, huh?"

Shiro's whole system sank. It sank and then it froze. He opened his mouth, eyes wide as he struggled to get sound past his throat. Nothing happened.

When Shiro failed to find anything to say, Lance let out a humourless, sharp laugh. "Yeah, no, just- just don't say anything. We can talk about it later, but.... But I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight."

"Lance..." the name escaped Shiro breathlessly. He was trembling just as bad as before, the soothed nerves from Lotor's calming voice suddenly tightening up as though they had been laced with an electric current of anxiety. Shiro's chest clenched. His stomach turned over. He suddenly felt like he could have thrown up... God, was he going to throw up?

Shiro swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, shaking his head a little. He parted his lips to argue — he opened his mouth to beg and plead for Lance to forgive him. But the words felt tight. The words strangled him. Shiro choked on his desperate entourage of pleas to help him get out of that fucking situation altogether for a few moments... a few moments before he let himself give up.

He slumped, and turned his head to the side, new, quiet tears slipping down his cheeks. It was almost surprising he had so many tears to cry. "I should get the couch," he murmured hoarsely, reaching for the bottle of Vodka. He plucked up the cap, and screwed it on tight. "I'm not gonna be able to fall asleep anyways." He stuffed the lukewarm alcohol into the fridge, and clapped the door to a shut. He didn't care it belonged upstairs in the freezer. He didn't care about anything, really, in that moment. "No of taking up a whole fuckin' bed if I'm not even gonna sleep."

Lance sent him a glance. His brows furrowed and he just nodded.

"Yeah," Lance muttered. "You just promised you'd sleep so I figured I should give you the bed. I'll take it, don't worry your drunk little head about it."

He left the room, hands curled into fists and tensed like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He felt guilty for Shiro's current state. What, Shiro didn't want to tell him about his insecurities and troubles so- so he just bottled them up? So he was confessing everything to Lotor? He didn't trust his own boyfriend anymore. Lance had to admit- it- it stung. Badly. It sent a swirl of negativity that grew like a blemish in his chest. It filled him with an overwhelming sense of nausea, giving him a headache, causing him to choke up as warmth pooled in his eyes and tears spilled down his cheeks.

No wonder Shiro said 'I love you' to Lotor more than to him.

Lance was growing tired of having to start it. He was sick of having to tell Shiro he loved him to get a reaction. He was growing ever tired of demanding attention that should be on him anyway, not on Shiro's phone when they were supposed to sleep, or fixed on the wall when Lance found him getting high 'in secret'. Lance wasn't supposed to have to spend each and every second fighting tooth and nail for Shiro's attention. He was tired of starting each and every conversation- provided that Shiro didn't bring up an irritating customer or ask if Lance knew about any jobs he could take up.

Lance was sick of the hope that bloomed in his chest when Shiro said his name because he knew by now that immediately after, the hope was smothered by realising Shiro only wanted something from him. Usually just notes for the shop, tips for where to organise the books, and several times had Shiro asked if they had enough room in the budget for him to go out 'drinking with a friend'. Lance was well aware of the not-so-subtle code to go to the nearest pub and call Lotor while he got progressively more drunk.

Lance gave him every last spare penny they had at the end of the week, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and told him not to stay too late.

"Eleven is your curfew," He'd remind him playfully, smiling as he waved Shiro off. With an idle promise to be back at eleven-thirty, latest, Shiro would leave.

And come back at two in the morning.

Finally reaching his room, Lance closed the door at the top of the staircase. He managed to drag heavy bones to the bed, finally able to throw himself down onto the covers, curl up, and cry. He kept his sobs stifled with his hand, or with a pillow, or by burying his face into Blue's fur. The last thing he wanted was to earn pity from a man who doesn't seem to love him anymore.

God knows how long he lay there, heaving breaths, feeling like his lungs would collapse. His heart ached for closeness with Shiro but his mind filled him with reasons why he shouldn't want to be around him anymore. After all, if Shiro didn't trust him, why should he trust Shiro? Here he was, telling Shiro insecurities and anxieties and deep fears that blossomed from his chest and lifted from his shoulders like storm clouds parting; all the while, Shiro took the weight from him and carried it on his back, hauling it from day to day and suppressing his own needs for help until he was able to pass it all over to Lotor.

Lotor, who had saved their lives and rescued Shiro from himself time and time again with each phone call where he was able to relieve Shiro of his worries. Lotor, who brought them together, who gained their trust. Lotor, who was in love with his boyfriend and sabotaged his relationship without even realising it.

And Lance thought he had been on good terms with him. Lance had thought that they'd moved past Lotor's feelings for Shiro, and that he cared more about Shiro's safety than anything else. Lance had been promised that they would call once every two weeks, or once every month. They called each other at least once a week, twice if Shiro had a rough day at the shop or in the village. And now- now he walks downstairs to see his drunk boyfriend (who had promised to try and remain sober) spilling his heart out to Lotor only one day after their last call.

It was hard, trying to convince himself that he wasn't being replaced. It was difficult and, ultimately, it was unsuccessful.

He fell asleep in their bed, curled up on Shiro's side and clutching onto his pillow with one hand, Blue with the other, tear stains around his eyes.

Shiro watched Lance leave up the stairs, tired eyes dark as they followed his boyfriend tread from step to step. He flinched when he heard the door slam, and then he forced himself to pretend not to hear the first gasping breath of a sob, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth in a mighty cringe to try and shove it all back. Shiro forced himself up to a stand, his whole body shaking rather violently as he tried to use the counter as a crutch. He only made a good foot or so until his tired legs gave out, knees buckling. Shiro sank down to the floor, gasping to himself. He kneeled there a few moments, figuring his options... and then just decided to sink down into the cool flooring and curl in on himself. He laid there, eyes open, sometimes spilling tears and sometimes not. He stayed there until the sun was high up in the sky, just feeling the hard floor beneath him, hoping the chill of the floorboards would soothe his aching head.

He threw up twice. Maybe more... he was a little too drunk to remember. He didn't try to get up to go to the bathroom, so he just tugged over the waist bin and gagged up that foul tasting bile and vodka in there. By ten o'clock, Shiro was leaned up against the wall, the trash bin on one side of him, and a bottle of water on the other. His head was pounding. Aching. Splintering. It had been a long, long while since his head had hurt that bad. Shiro closed his eyes and tipped his head back, trying hard to block out all of that insufferable pain. He breathed deep breaths, not liking how his heart beat in his chest, or how fuzzy and buzzed his thoughts were getting...

Minutes passed. Shiro's hangover seemed to worsen. Did they do that? Did they worsen? Shiro never had one that got worse before. He gave a low moan to himself, reaching up a weak, trembling hand to hold his temple. Sweat beaded his brow and slickened his skin, cooling against him and the cool morning air of the shop. It inspired heavier shivers to run down the flesh of his back, his teeth chattering, eyes clenching. Everything felt light. Everything felt as though it had been spinning. When he dared to crack open his eyes, his vision was spliced, doubled for a few moments before he could blink the hallucination away.

Something was wrong...

Hangovers never felt like that for Shiro. And he once had a hangover that lasted him two straight fucking days. Shiro shook his head a little, almost crying out at the sharp pain the little action caused his aching brain. He was starting to get nervous, a hot string of quiet panic that coiled about his stomach and about his rib cage. Something was really wrong with him. Shiro closed his eyes, suddenly recognizing the familiar feeling of a raging fever tormenting his system. Was he sick or something?

Shiro leaned his head back up from the wall, fluttering his dazed, glazed over eyes. Everything ached. Everything hurt. He felt like throwing up again but his stomach felt too empty. Too concave. Shiro let out a long, shaky breath, lifting his one hand up to observe its trembling.

The clock on the wall told him eleven. His appointment was at three. Shiro, fretfully, wondered if it would be wise to move it up an hour. Maybe two. Maybe... maybe say screw it and just leave right then and right there.

He'd have to go upstairs and get dressed. Shiro turned his pounding head to trail his gaze up that spiral staircase, that twine of quaint anxiety coiling itself into a ball of painful dread in his stomach. Could he get all the way up there? Was that... was that even an option for him? He didn't even think he could get himself up into a stand again...

Shiro tried anyways. He set his prosthetic hand upon the surface of the counter, and tried to pull himself up, the action awkward and odd feeling with that strange arm of his. He managed to get himself into a doubled over stand, the counter his main support as he tried to stop the spinning of the room around him. It spun so fast Shiro nearly felt like stumbling along with it, teetering this way and that. He nearly did with his first step forward, the grip on the counter the only thing keeping him steady as he forced his way along. He was making good progress until, of course, he ran out of counter. The first step without his support, he collapsed rather easily, legs giving out in an instant.

He fell face down on the floor, his one hand unable to keep himself from hitting his head. Shiro gave a groan, and rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath. His heart was slamming against his rib cage. His whole body had doubled in its shaking. He felt drained. Weak. Useless.

Shiro closed his eyes, trying to clear out his fuzzy head. He couldn't concentrate. Thoughts spun and tilted about his head along with the room. He couldn't string proper idea together... all he got was dozens of jumbles of hazy feelings... but there was one thing he heard and felt more steadier than all the rest. One single word... one single person...

"Lance," Shiro croaked, his voice quiet and breathless. Shiro closed his eyes tighter, swallowing hard. His next little call was louder. "Lance... Lance! Help..."

He didn't think Lance was hearing him. He was shifting in and out of consciousness, feeling more and more drained by the second...

"Help..."

Heavy footsteps came racing down the stairs seconds later. The door was thrown open and Lance, repulsed by the strong stench of vomit for only a moment, moved to kneel by Shiro's side.

"Shiro?" he asked, helping him to sit up a little, propping up his head. "Shiro, what is it? What's happened? Come on, you need to speak to me. I need to know what's going on." He glanced around, grabbing for the phone and beginning to call the hospital. Fuck their appointment- he needed to get a doctor here now! He could tell just from Shiro's weakened state that this wasn't just a hangover. He seemed to be unable to speak, weakened and tired, and- and it hurt to see Shiro like this.

When he had set down his phone, the call successful, he diverted his attention fully to Shiro. He checked his temperature, feeling Shiro's sweat on the palm of his hand. He had a fever, and it was causing worry to spike in Lance's system. Not even beginning to focus on the rapid heartbeat in Shiro's chest. Oh god, oh god, what was going to happen? How had this happened?!

"Come on, just- just breathe. Breathe a little, come on. It's okay, I've got you. You're going to be okay, I promise," he said softly as he brought him closer, arms wrapped tightly around him to keep him close. His worry was overwhelming, causing him to spiral, tears in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks before he could even register them. "God, please, please," he said softly as he cupped Shiro's cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Please.. Breathe, it's okay, I'll- I'm going to keep you safe. An ambulance is on its way, alright? Just- just please, breathe. Keep your eyes open, focus on me. I don't want you falling asleep on me, no matter how much I insist otherwise. Please, please... just- just..." He fell silent.

He was so scared about Shiro's condition. The last thing he wanted was for Shiro to be in any more pain than he was already in. It looked like it was difficult to stay awake like this and he seemed to be in pain. Fear and worry and sickliness was bubbling up in Lance's chest at this worrying state alone.

He didn't want to lose Shiro.

Everything rational in his mind told him that he wouldn't but- but he still couldn't help but think of it. He couldn't help but consider the possibility that so little sleep for so long, that so much stress, that so much alcohol, could have a fatal impact on his boyfriend. He couldn't help but blame himself.

After all, he was the reason why Shiro had been drinking, and why he had been stressed, and from what Shiro had said, what he'd overheard... he was the reason for the lacking sleep, too. If he lost Shiro because of this, he didn't know what he'd do with himself.

Shiro weakly attempted to press into Lance, letting all of his weight lean against him in one slump. His body felt listless. What was wrong with him? He could hear Lance's voice -- distant and distorted, of course -- but he couldn't find the strength the respond. Shiro just wanted to fall asleep. It was so easy... all he had to do was close his eyes. Finally! Finally he could sleep! Maybe he was too tired to dream that time... maybe it would be safe...

Lance's voice kept him from slipping into the temptations. The desperate pleading in his tone kept his weary alert on standby, dark, hazy eyes open and looking up to Lance. When his vision settled, Shiro noticed the tears streaming down Lance's face. He could see the fear and pain sparkle in Lance's eyes. It made Shiro's already sick system lurch a bit.

It was his fault. He couldn't fucking take care of himself, and Lance had to suffer through that. God, the thought nearly made Shiro recoil in disgust. He might have, if he was strong enough. Rather, he settled for the crawling of his skin, and the weak furrow of his brow. Shiro, with all his strength, lifted up his hand and held it up to Lance's cheek, weakly trying to wipe away some of his tears.

"I'm sorry..." Shiro whimpered, sniffling. The words came slowly. Sluggish with hard thought and a tired tongue. "This is all my fault. I'm... I'm an idiot... I just didn't want to ruin everything..." His arm grew weak and trembly, but he still cupped Lance's cheek in his jaw.

"No, no," Lance scolded delicately as he let his hand rest atop of Shiro's. "Don't- Don't say that. Come on, you- you haven't ruined anything. We'll just... we can take a little bit of a break. We can talk about what's upsetting you. Please, you can't blame yourself for having nightmares. You can't blame yourself for being afraid. Please... God, please, please just- just stay with me. Just stay awake until an ambulance arrives and we can figure out what's gone wrong. Okay?"

He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Shiro's hand, holding tightly to it. "Come on, you're strong. You're the strongest man I've ever met. Please, please just... just stay awake with me, even if you feel like it's too difficult. Please, just... please just stay with me." He was so scared of seeing Shiro's eyes close and never open again. He was too scared of everything that could go wrong if Shiro submitted to sleepiness that took him, kept him, that never let him leave.

He was so scared. All he could do was protect his boyfriend, keep him safe. The sound of sirens began to stir in the distance and Lance perked up. Hope stirred in his chest. "Hear that? That's help. Help is almost here, Shiro. And it's going to save your life. Just- just hang in there."

Shiro's eyes widened a bit at the sound of sirens, a heavy blanket of confusion draping his already fuzzy mind. He didn't remember Lance calling for an ambulance... was it really that bad? Surely it wasn't. It couldn't have been... it was just a bad fever, right? He was just a little sick. All he needed to do was sleep for a bit... if only Lance would let him. Why was Lance so afraid to let him fall asleep? He was so tired... so so tired...

Stay with him, Shiro, he's scared.

"I'll be fine, Lance," Shiro said weakly. His arm was listless then, Lance holding his hand up to his face. Shiro was thankful for that -- thankful for the contact. He pressed his head further into Lance's chest, letting his eyes fall halfway closed. "Just a fever... stupid... I don't... I don't need a hospital... I hate them... Zarkon will be there... Zarkon..."

He didn't really know what he'd been saying. The words just left his lips. He was delirious -- the fever and the sleep deprivation made it feel as though his mind had melted and lost itself as it dripped away. He was just talking, trying to keep himself awake. He rambled on about hospitals and Zarkon, most of his words incomprehensible and slurred to nothing but a humming murmur, but it kept him awake... even if he let his eyes fall to that close he had so desperately tried to prevent. He made sure Lance knew he wasn't asleep though... his thumb moving back and forth against Lance's tear stained cheeks.

"I don't want drugs," he muttered fervently, pressing tight into Lance's chest. The sirens were closer, louder. Shiro could hear them much more clearly through the fuzz of his head and the blood rushing in his ears. "It'll just make me fuckin... fuckin dream again... I don't want them..."

Lance just watched him, his eyes wide and panicked. He wasn't sure what state Shiro was currently in. He was feverish, panicked, and even though he was too weak to register just how scared he was, Lance could see it clearly in his eyes.

"It's okay," he assured Shiro. "It'll be okay. Please, just... just trust me. I'll make sure it's all okay."

The following few hours were... a blur. In all honesty, it could have been minutes, or hours, or days. Lance wasn't sure about anything other than Shiro's condition being worse than he had initially imagined. Flashing lights and a cacophony of shouts and cries and Lance demanding to stay with Shiro and then the sirens as Lance and Shiro were brought to hospital. Shiro on a stretcher, Lance holding onto his hand beside him. It was a short drive to the nearest E.R., though it still felt like an eternity of hurried talking between the doctors and Lance's own panicking. He was interrogated about what happened, how he found Shiro, what could have led up to this. He was asked a dozen more when he arrived, and then a couple hundred extra to keep him from freaking out when he was kept out of Shiro's room.

After all, Shiro was in no condition to be seen. They needed to run their tests, figure out what had caused such serious issues. They'd administered him with heavy drugs to keep him unconscious while they did, despite how Lance had said he didn't want Shiro to be given any and how Shiro, in the few fleeting moments of consciousness he had had, also objected.

Lance was sure that years had passed outside of Shiro's room with nothing to entertain himself but his own anxious thoughts and the hope that maybe, just possibly, Shiro would be perfectly fine. The hope didn't last when he was told they needed to keep Shiro overnight for observation, to make sure he maintained a stable condition. Though there was a little bit of good news- a little before midnight, Lance was allowed into Shiro's room, and he settled down in the seat beside his bed. His hand rested atop of Shiro's. It was cold to touch, and his fingertips held the slightest tremble, but Lance's warm touch provided reassurance.

All Lance could hope for was that Shiro would be okay soon. That no nightmares plagued him while he was in a sleep he couldn't wake up from for a long while.

 

But he wouldn't know until Shiro awoke.

It was a little after twelve in the afternoon the next day before Shiro was able to.

He woke up slowly -- incredibly slow. His conscious pooled back into his mind with the speed of chilled honey being poured from a jar. His senses unfurled from their sheathings of deep slumber in the way a great old oak would spread its routes over years and years of growing. His long, ironed breaths became irregular with each long sigh he took, bumping themselves out into the normal breaths of someone awake. His heavy eyes squeezed shut tighter, then fluttered, then closed again... and then cracked open -- the white light of the hospital room burning his eyes so bad he gave the weakest little hiss of pain before snapping them to a close. Shiro swallowed dryly, his tongue and throat devoid of moisture.

Shiro groaned a little, the tired, grumbly sound crawling up from the base of his chest, up his throat, and past his chapped lips. He swallowed again, and attempted to open his eyes, only wincing and blinking hard at the white brightness of the room. He didn't quite understand where he was at first, staring up into the white tiled ceiling, his brow furrowing as the slightly fearful confusion built up in his system. Shiro didn't remember much... not much at all. He only barey retained the memory of crying a lot... and maybe Lance being mad at him...

"Lance?" the name left his lips as soon as the thought crossed his head, no sort of filter holding him back. He felt a hand atop of his, a warm one. Shiro turned his heavy head to look to the side, the soft, tiredly worried features shifted into the softest of warm smiles. "Hey, prince charming..." his voice was dry and tired but... it was him again. No sort of delirious fear or drunk sorrow. Just Shiro... even if his voice sounded much weaker than normal. "Where... where are we?"

"Hospital," Lance said, wrapping his arms around Shiro and holding him close, clutching to him. "God, I- I was so scared, Shiro."

He finally pulled back a short while later and rubbed his eyes. His hands were trembling. "I was so scared. I-I'm so glad you're okay. You are okay, aren't you? You feel better, right? I love you. I was so scared. I was so, so scared." He held him a little closer, kissing him gently and tenderly. He was so relieved. The tension had lifted from his shoulders and his eyes had closed. He watched him for a few moments, relief finally settling in properly as he ran his fingers through Shiro's hair. "And... and how did you sleep? I was so worried. I haven't slept. Oh, how the tables have turned, huh?" He let out a dry, humourless laugh as he kept his eyes on Shiro. He still couldn't quite believe that Shiro was okay.

He really hadn't slept. He had bags under his eyes, clearly exhausted. He needed rest but- but it could wait. He needed to make sure that Shiro was okay. He was so scared about everything that could possibly go wrong- now he felt better. The exhaustion came crashing down on him as the stressful situation defused.

He loved Shiro. He was so happy that he was okay.

Shiro smiled wanly at him, just glad to hear his voice. He felt as though it had been so long since they last spoke... Lance's voice and Lance's face and Lance's smile was like a breath of fresh air after a week or so of stale medicine and the smell of alcohol wipes. "I'm okay," he murmured, reaching up his hand. Something tugged at his wrist, making him flinch a little. An IV... Shiro's skin crawled a little at the sight of it. He switched hands, though, bringing his prosthetic up to Lance's face. He cupped his cheeks with his steel palm and his steel fingers. "Just tired. Even though I feel live I've slept for years."

He didn't how dark the bags beneath Lance's eyes were. He certainly didn't like how pale and nervous he looked. Shiro almost felt as though he'd been looking in a mirror...

Which made him get to thinking how much Lance must have hated seeing Shiro in that state, too.

"How long was I out for?" Shiro asked, his tired gaze softening. "It wasn't long right? I missed you, Lance. While I was asleep... I missed you so much. I love you, baby..." He was almost rambling, tired eyes full of sleepy fondness. Almost twinkling with it.

"It was... I- I think... a little over a day. You were out for a while." Lance shifted onto the bed, letting his head rest on Shiro's shoulder as he held him closer. "I'm so glad you're okay, though. Really, I- I am. I love you." He pressed his lips to Shiro's forehead softly. "When we can get you home, we can have a bath and then get you some decent rest. The shop will be open again on Thursday," he said quietly, running his fingers through Shiro's hair.

His brows furrowed and Lance looked from Shiro to the bed. "But- But we really need to talk about all of this, Shiro. You can't put it off any longer. We'll do it at home, alone, but we need to talk to each other properly about everything."

Shiro nodded gently. "I know," he said quietly. "I've been... I've been a real ass, Lance. A dumbass. There's a lot I have to explain..."

"Understatement of the year, but okay. Oh- wait, it's January, uhh... understatement of the decade."

Shiro snorted. "I guess it is..."

He trailed off, looking to the side as well, studying the patterns of the stiff hospital bed sheets. Everything around him smelled like disinfectant and medicine. That specific smell of hospitals and the sick hung heavy in Shiro's room -- it was only just starting to bother him. The smell brought back uncomfortable memories... the bedding and the beeping of machinery and the feeling of that IV in his arm. Shiro swallowed hard, and shut his eyes, trying hard to keep from letting the place get to him.

"Is there any way you could climb in bed with me?" Shiro asked quietly, eyes still shut, head still turned to the side. "Hospitals give me bad vibes. I... I'd feel more comfortable next to you. We could take a nap until the doctor shows..." He hesitated a quick second, opened his eyes, and turned back to Lance. "We can talk later... I... I just want to sleep beside you. No nightmares. No alcohol. No fighting. Please?"

"Yeah, definitely," Lance said quietly as he cupped Shiro's jaw, letting his head rest atop of his boyfriend's and closing his eyes. "You need your rest, and I think I need to get some sleep too. I love you so much." Lance toyed a little with Shiro's hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head gently as he got nice and comfy. Or as comfy as he could in a shitty hospital bed.

A soft sigh escaped him as he held Shiro, just needing to relax, to get content. He wasn't as comfortable as he was at home, but with Shiro... he could probably sleep anywhere. All he ever needed was Shiro.

"I love you too, Lance," Shiro murmured, trying his best to hold Lance in his arms with all the IVs. He leaned his head onto Lance's shoulder, pressing his face further into his boyfriend, just cherishing the contact. Shiro lowered his voice to a whisper, his voice muffled by Lance's clothes. "Please don't ever forget how much I love you."

"I promise you, Shiro," Lance spoke in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. "I'll never forget..."

He closed his eyes, sighing deeply against Lance — content. The smell was still there, nagging at him with painful memories it brought along with it, but Shiro turned his head and breathed in Lance's scent instead. The scent of home. The scent his own calm. The scent of the man he loved, the gentle smell of flowers just overtop a handsome natural musk. Lance's presence masked the smells of his past.

Shiro was lulled into sleep easily, still drugged and still weakened. He fell asleep in a good fifteen minutes or so, in the same deep, deadened slumber he'd been in just ten minutes before. There were no nightmares.

When Shiro woke up again, Lance had been standing beside the bed rather than laying with him. On the other side of the bed, there was a doctor, a clipboard in hand and a pen in the other. Confused, he began to push up from the stiff hospital cot, but Lance's reassuring hand on his shoulder had stopped him. The worry in his stomach settled down, and Shiro unclenched his muscles, trying to relax himself as best he could.

"What's up, doc?" he asked in a nervous huff of laughter, his tone still tired and quiet.

"Quite a bit, Captain Custos," the doctor answered in a smug tone.

The doctor proceeded to explain to the anxious Lance and the uncomfortable Shiro just what was wrong with him. Severe sleep deprivation had been the big thing, apparently. It was what the man drilled into them the most -- how fatigued Shiro's body had been. He told Shiro and Lance that Shiro's sleep deprivation was likely causing him mood shifts, headaches, changes in his sex drive (a statement to which Shiro offered his deepest blush), and, most importantly, anxiety issues. That had been the second thing he touched upon -- Shiro's anxiety problems. He asked Shiro questions, some of which Shiro didn't quite want to answer... and Shiro simply held onto Lance's hand and bared through each and every one. Once the doctor was done with his short list of questions, he flipped a page on his clipboard, and tapped his pen upon it with a click. The doctor offered Shiro a soft frown, and dived into his alcoholism problems.

He told Shiro his liver was already in a shape that was rather undesirable. It was nothing serious, but in his later years of life the alcohol poisoning would cause him some serious problems. The doctor said he could only advise to limit his drinking down to once a week at most, and even then limit those drinking sessions to only two shots or one full glass. Shiro scoffed and rolled his eyes a little... but the look he got from Lance was stern and serious. It made Shiro's sarcasm vanish rather quickly... and a gentle feeling of bitterness brew about in his stomach.

The last thing the doctor discussed was medications. They were going to prescribe Shiro sleeping pills, antidepressants, and then a collection of vitamins and an iron supplement for his diet just to help build up his strength. Shiro grew even more bitter at each long and complicated medication name the doctor read off, not liking how the different meds piled up. Their side effects made him even more hesitant to agree... some of them almost seemed worse than the things the damn pills would be curing. The doctor asked Shiro if he was an easy addict and Shiro lied and said no, was thumped in the arm by Lance, and then told the truth and said yes. The man then turned to Lance and told him to make sure he monitored Shiro's use on the sleeping pills, which were apparently the most addictive of the bunch, just in case. Shiro didn't like how grim Lance looked upon nodding at the request, and instantly swallowed back his complaint about being able to care for himself.

Finally, Shiro's meds were charted and his daily check up had concluded. The doctor told them Shiro could be discharged in another few hours, and then left them to it. They spent the rest of their time in the hospital just talking idly to each other, the atmosphere between them finally feeling right again. Shiro bothered the nurses with his emergency button until Lance grew guilty about it, and then Shiro bothered Lance by asking him for those disgusting little pudding cups kept in the fridge in the cafeteria.

"One more," Shiro would hum. "Pretty, pretty please? Look at me. I'm hospitalized. These could be my last days, Lance!"

"They're disgusting! They don't even taste nice!" Lance would argue, his tone scolding. "We can getting pudding from a shop on our way back home, but I'm not going to be seen hoarding pudding cups because my greedy boyfriend keeps demanding them."

No matter what Lance would say, Shiro would always end up with another cup of pudding.

Finally, Shiro was discharged and he could go back home. They stopped by the pharmacy on the way out of the large hospital building to pick up Shiro's new prescriptions, and then they moved out into the parking lot where Sven and Slav waited for them. Shiro was wobbly when Lance walked him to the car, and he was a little more quiet and a little more unresponsive when Sven and Slav greeted him when he slid into the back seat. They got him a cool little chocolate bar, though, one with a classic get well soon card. Shiro made sure to quietly thank them for the ride and the candy before they were dropped back off at the shop, secretly loving the gesture and the thought.

The two made it into the shop safe and sound, Lance's arm held out for Shiro to hold as a sort of safety net, his system still a little spaced from the drugs and from the fever. It had gone down quite a bit, of course, but Shiro never did well with fevers on the rare occasion he'd have one. They always left him a bit weak and discombobulated, even after a few days of leaving him. Shiro couldn't deny he felt the dizzy tilting of a feverish mindscape as Lance eased him up the stairs. As soon as they mounted that last step, Shiro had moved forward on his own, making his slow way to the bed. He kicked off his shoes and crawled into it without a word, hoping Lance understood just how much he needed to sleep in his own bed after a night in the hospital.

They would have their talk later, Shiro figured, getting comfortable in his spot. He held out an arm for Lance to join him, the invitation thankfully accepted by the equally as haggard Lance. They slipped beneath the covers, snuggled against each other closely -- Lance making sure not to prod the bruise of the IV on Shiro's arm. It was the most comfortable Shiro had felt in a long while.

He fell asleep in what felt like seconds.


	43. Taking A Day Off

The next morning, Shiro found himself waking up in an empty bed. He reached his hands out for Lance's touch and Lance's warmth, but only found a cool indent of Lance's side, and the chilly absence of his boyfriend. Shiro closed his eyes tighter and let his teeth chatter a bit, curling up in on himself beneath the covers. He was feeling better, of course. Much, much better. His eyes still stung a bit with strain, and his head still felt fairly foggy, but there was not even the slightest of impulses to vomit tugging at his gut. His muscles felt a bit more relaxed than they had been in a good long while -- he tested them out a bit, stretching out his legs and pointing his toes before curling back into his ball of self preserved warmth.

He could smell breakfast from the kitchen. He could hear the soft humming of music through their radio. He could hear the even softer singing along from Lance's mumbling lips. Shiro's lips curled into the gentlest of smiles as he listened to Lance cook. He smelled pancake batter. Syrup. Fresh fruit. Each one made his suddenly starving system clench in anticipation. Shiro rolled over onto his back, and turned his head to his bedside table, catching sight of all his new meds and all their new instructions. They even came with one of those funky little weekday holder thingies old people used. Just the sight of it made Shiro blush.

He wished Lance's desperate features hadn't convinced himself to getting meds. They made him nervous with their side effects and threats, and they embarrassed him just by looking. He knew it wasn't anything bad or stupid to take them but... but he didn't know. He didn't know how he felt about it. It was just... difficult, he supposed.

Shiro turned his head back around to look at the ceiling. After a few more boring minutes, Shiro decided Lance could spare a bit free time in between flipping pancakes with him. "Lance?" Shiro called. "Can you come back in here for a second? It's cold!"

"I can't, I'll burn the pancakes!" Came Lance's voice from the other room. "But don't worry, I'm on the last one now!"

And, as expected, Lance came through only a couple of seconds later. He held a tray, and atop of it were two plates, stacked with pancakes, syrup, nutella, and a little bowl of freshly-sliced fruit. Lance sat down, helped Shiro to sit up, and set the tray down on his boyfriend's lap.

"Good morning, Takashi," he said sweetly with a soft kiss to his jaw. "I hope you're feeling better, and I thought that this would be a nice thing to wake up to. Better than hospital slop." He settled against Shiro's side, leaning against him. Their house had the lingering scent of pancakes now, and the warm glow of the early morning sunlight added to the pleasant atmosphere. This was everything that they could have wanted. Lance was settled contently in place, one arm wrapped around Shiro as he teased his fingers through his boyfriend's hair.

Nothing was better than having Shiro back in his home, in his arms, after such a stressful few days. "I'm opening the shop again tomorrow," he explained softly. "I'm going to spend today keeping my eye on you, making sure that you're fed appropriately. And you're going to be working with me tomorrow, alright? I want to be by your side in case anything happens again. I don't want you unsupervised for the next three days, okay? Whether that's my supervision or otherwise. If you're regularly eating and taking your meds for three straight days, then I'll let you go on your own." He pressed another little kiss to Shiro's cheek. "Come on, dig in."

Lance was settled atop of the blanket beside Shiro. He wore a pair of Shiro's black boxers, with the shirt he'd stolen from Shiro so long ago. His hair had been brushed and tamed, and he had cleaned up a little. He'd evidently been trying on some of Shiro's makeup before waking him up- not even the makeup wipes he'd used had gotten off the tiny smears of eyeshadow around his eyes. He didn't usually wear makeup so he'd wanted to try to use it but, evidently, it hadn't gone as planned so he had wiped it off. His eyes were fixed on Shiro, his eyes shining with a familiar loving gaze. Lance just seemed complete whenever he was with Shiro, adoring how Shiro held him so close.

It almost let him forget how miserable the last few days had been for them both.

"I could probably help out tomorrow," Shiro answered, his focus on Lance instead of the steaming plate of pancakes on his lap. He reached his hand up to Lance's face, running a delicate thumb over some of the smudges by his eyes. "Were you experimenting while I was asleep?"

He leaned in to give Lance a kiss before he could answer -- a long and tender kiss. When he pulled back, his previously bull eyes glittered. "You shouldn't have wiped it off," he hummed, turning away from Lance to look down at his pancakes. His stomach still felt a little sick... but it certainly felt real empty too. Shiro reached for the fork and began eating. Just tiny pieces with long breaks in between, but enough to satisfy his system and the watchful Lance at his side. "I kinda want to see how you did." Lance laughed softly, smiling as he began to eat his pancakes, too.

"It was bad," he said through a mouthful. "It was really bad, so I wiped it off. You can do my makeup if you want?"

Lance was happy to be with Shiro like this again. It was nice, and he had definitely missed hearing Shiro's voice. It wasn't too obvious, but Shiro always spoke to him with a little more tenderness when they were at home compared to being at the hospital, which made Lance's chest feel lighter. His heart always fluttered slightly when he could hear Shiro speaking so endearingly to him. "But we can focus on that a little later. How are you feeling, babe? You look a lot better. Much less pale."

Shiro shrugged a little. "Kinda, like, groggy, but I'm okay," he said quietly, feeling full after finishing his first pancake. Shiro set the plate off his lap and onto the bed, keeping a firm watch on Blue, who crept up to the side of the bed with a rather keen look in her eyes. Shiro reached up and rubbed at his temple.

"Still have a headache, but that's normal... wait... did you said I could do your makeup?" He shot Lance a warm grin, cocking his head a little. "That would be cool. I could teach you... but you're, like, an artist or whatever so I'm sure it won't be that hard for you to learn."

"Yeah, I- I'd like to learn!" He took Shiro's hand, squeezing it. "I'd love that. But- But I want to see how you would do my makeup, first." He pressed a few kisses along Shiro's knuckles- something that he did more often than he realised- as he looked lovingly into Shiro's eyes. "I'm so glad you're okay, though. I was really worried."

He shifted a little, wrapping his arms around Shiro and pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away, focusing back on his quickly diminishing stack of pancakes so that he could finish eating. He'd noticed how slowly Shiro was eating his pancakes, but he didn't question it. He was just assuming that Shiro still felt nauseous.

Shiro let himself frown a little, looking off to the side. "I'm sorry I worried you," he murmured guiltily, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "I knew I was getting bad but... I didn't know I was getting that bad. I've had bad strips like that before but I've never been fuckin' hospitalized." Shiro gave a huff of a laugh, swallowing hard. He turned to look at Lance, letting his shoulders rise and slump in a tired shrug.

"I barely even remember any of it," he admitted. Shiro's hand found Lance's free one, the one that wasn't stuffing bits of pancake into his mouth. "That fever kicked my ass. Everything felt so hazy... Did I really look as bad as I felt? I mean I had to've. You called the ambulance and everything..." His tone progressively became more and more guilty, the feeling of shame that festered in his stomach nearly feeling as though it had been eating him alive.

"You did," he said softly. He gave a reassuring squeeze to Shiro's hand. "You were pale and barely responding to me. You could barely keep your eyes open and I was scared that if you closed your eyes, you... you wouldn't open them again." He frowned a little, looking away, letting his head rest on Shiro's shoulder. "But what matters is that you're okay. That's all I need. I just want you to be okay."

The mood had gotten a little solemn. He wasn't sure how to lift the mood back up, so instead he just stuffed some more fruit into his mouth.

Shiro watched him a moment, before flicking his eyes away. He squeezed Lance's hand back, and held it tightly. "I'm okay," he echoed to Lance in a form of reassurance. "It takes more than a little sleep deprivation to get rid of me." He let himself laugh a little bit at that, a weak little huff of laughter of course, but a gentle laugh nonetheless.

"I should hope so," Lance mumbled softly, a small smile on his lips but it soon faded. Shiro eased his hold on Lance's hand so he could run gentle circles about his knuckles with his thumb.

There were a few good seconds of silence, each of them thinking to themselves for a bit. Shiro leaned in close to Lance, tilting his head to rest on top of Lance's, which rested on his shoulder. He gave a long sigh... and then took a deep breath before speaking again.

"So I guess now is the time we talk, huh?" Shiro said with a quiet laugh. "We have most of our relationship building conversations in the morning after, anyways. Why break the streak, right?"

"The morning after?" Lance echoed with a smile. "What, did we have sex and I just forgot about it?"

Shiro gave a snicker. "Well, it's happened before, sweetheart," he joked, laughing when lance gave him a little shove."

He sat up a little, letting his head rest on Shiro's shoulder as he closed his eyes.. "But... yeah. Yeah, I think we should talk now. Get it dealt with. I did overhear most of it from when you were calling Lotor but- but I want to hear it from you. Properly. So... whenever you're ready, I suppose."

Lance shifted slightly, sitting up, moving away from Shiro enough to be facing him despite how badly he wanted to stay lying there with him. "Let's start with your nightmares, okay? I think we should start by talking about them."

The hair on the back of Shiro's neck bristled at the topic, his teeth gritting behind his frowning lips. Shiro looked down at the bed, eyes trained on his cooling plate of leftover pancakes. "I was afraid you'd want to start there," he murmured, swallowing hard. Shiro thought for a few moments, closing his eyes while he racked his brain for a way to explain everything. "You... you, uh, know I watched Adam die, right? I feel like I told you... yeah, Zarkon... he, uh, did that right in front of me."

Shiro paused a second, shifting his weight. The words felt uncomfortable leaving his very sober lips... it was hard for him to speak so smoothly without the help of vodka in his system. "I hope you never have to see anyone die like that because it's fucking awful. They don't show it the right way in movies. It's not very cinematic I guess... just... gruesome... really really bloody..." Shiro was rambling. He caught himself, swallowed hard, and squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Well, uh, seeing Adam die like that is my usual dream but six weeks ago... Adam changed to you..."

"It was every time I tried to fall asleep so... so I stopped trying. I couldn't take it. Watching you die over and over again... like that... I couldn't take it," Shiro tried to lift his voice back to its normal sort of tone, trying hard to abandon that soft, scared daze. "I didn't tell you because it felt... wrong, I guess. You're finally living the life you always wanted and I didn't want to screw it up with my fucked up head. I just figured they would go away and I'd get better again, but then the stress caught up with me first and I called Lotor. I knew I should have told you but... but I felt like it was too late. So I called Lotor. If anyone would understand Zarkon haunting their dreams, it's him, I guess. And his life already does kinda suck... so I figured he wouldn't mind a drunk Shiro dumping all his baggage on him."

Lance just listened. He wasn't exactly sure how to respond. How would anyone respond to being told all of this?  
"Shiro, that... that can't have been easy," he murmured, unaware of what he could possibly say that would make this better. "But- but you could have told me this sooner so we could have tried to figure something out before your personal health was at risk." He sighed a little, brows furrowing. It sounded miserable. That kind of nightmare must have been haunting and to have it consistently? "And dumping it all on Lotor wasn't going to make it go away. He would understand, sure, but he wouldn't be able to make it all disappear."

He fell quiet for a few moments and this began to settle in properly. "And I want to be here to help you. Seeing you hiding stuff from me just makes me feel uncomfortable or... or untrustworthy. Shiro, why don't you talk to me anymore? Why do you always talk to Lotor?"

Shiro felt his system sink, eyes growing rounder, face going a little paler. He leaned forward and took both of Lance's hands in his own, shaking his head fast. "No, no, please don't think like that," he said in a weak sort of beg. "Lance, it's not that I don't trust you. It's not that I trust Lotor more or anything... I... God, it's hard to explain..."

He looked away from Lance, chewing on the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed as he searched for his words. Shiro turned back to him. "When I first met you in that fucking warehouse or whatever it was, I... I noticed how perfect your eyes were... you... you looked so clean and innocent and faultless. It blew me away... I knew from that point on that I needed to protect you. Even if I didn't realize it, I knew I had to keep you safe. From all this fucking mafia bullshit... and then I just dragged you into it myself."

Shiro took a deep breath, eyes growing a little watery. He continued, his voice powered with conviction. "It's my fault you had to go missing. It's my fault you had to live a whole week or so in fear. It's my fault your cheekbone was broken. It's my fault you had to kill a man. I failed at keeping you safe so many times... I... I just want you to be free from this mess. And now you're finally here and finally happy and finally safe... you don't deserve me and my mafia baggage anymore. I just want more than anything to put that all behind us. To put it behind you. I've messed you up enough. I've ruined your life enough. I'm just so... so done with doing that to you over and over again. I just want to protect you from it all... and doing that means protecting you from myself, too."

There was a moment's pause. Shiro managed to keep the tears from slipping down his cheeks, but they were there. Glittering in his eyes. "I talk to Lotor because he's just as fucked up as I am," Shiro breathed, flicking his gaze back to the bed after locking it with Lance's for so long. "His eyes are just as ugly as mine. We both have blood on our hands. We both have a nice, warm spot in Hell waiting for us. I talk to him about my head and my problems because I don't have to worry about them hurting him. I don't have to worry about them hurting that sparkle in his eyes because it is gone. Yours isn't... and I gladly will die protecting you and your sparkle, Lance." He looked back up to Lance, face set, features stern. "Gladly. Nothing is more important to me than your happiness. I wouldn't hesitate sacrificing myself for you. Not even for a second."

Lance watched Shiro for a few moments. He was silent, not sure what to say.

"I don't want you to treat me like a child," he murmured. "I'm more than capable of everything Lotor can do! And- and when you decide to vent to him instead of me, it feels like im being replaced. And everything rational in my brain tells me that I'm just overreacting and it's mafia shit and I wouldn't understand so I should be involved but then I hear you telling him about stuff that I would understand and you're saying you don't want to tell me and- and-" he took a shaky breath, his hold on Shiro's hand tightening. "Shiro, you need to set your head on straight. I'm your fucking boyfriend. As far as everyone here is aware, I'm your husband! And I don't want you refusing to talk to me because of something as little as that. Please. Besides, as sweet as your whole sentiment is, if you ever sacrifice yourself for me, I'll go find your 'nice, warm spot in hell' and I'll drag you back myself. You'd sacrifice yourself for my happiness, but you just don't understand that you are my happiness."

Lance finally released Shiro's hand, moving back a little, shifting off of the bed. "I'm gonna get a glass of water. Do you want me to get you a drink, too? And I swear if you ask for anything alcoholic I'm going to push you off the bed."

Shiro watched him, everything Lance said still running about his mind, being processed and pulled apart. "Water would be nice," he said, nodding his head a little. "I have to take some of those meds anyways."

His brain finally caught up with the world around him, and Shiro flicked his gaze up to Lance, who had been standing by then, making his way to the kitchen. "I'm your happiness?" he asked weakly, stopping Lance with his voice. The simple little phrase was ringing in his ears. It hung heavy in his system, warming him. Soothing him. Shiro's face broke out with a smile, and he turned his gaze down to the blankets. "I'll talk to you more, Lance. From now on... I'll try my best. But mafia or not, I've always been a little closed off. But... we've been over that, haven't we?" Shiro gave a soft little laugh and shook his head. He leaned over and scooped up the plate of unfinished pancakes, holding it out for Lance.

"Take this too. Please." Shiro's voice was joking. A gentle sort of joking. "I guess I don't have to do dishes being on strict bed rest and all, huh?"

"Oh, you wish," Lance said with a smile. "I'll be bringing through a bucket of warm water and a dishcloth after dinner so that you can do the dishes for me. After all, I'll be the one cooking, so it's only fair." Nonetheless, Lance took the tray and set it in the kitchen, getting the two glasses of water as promised and setting one down for Shiro. He sat beside his boyfriend, sipping his drink.

He slid under the covers, sighing a little. "What's on the agenda for today, handsome?" Lance took a sip from his drink. He wanted to do something today. It never really sat well for him when he didn't do anything- as Shiro would have realised from the time spent in his apartment. Always cleaning or reorganising or whatever. "I'm thinking... I could start by dusting. Cleaning up here first, tidying, vacuuming the floors and stuff. Or cleaning up downstairs ready for tomorrow's shift. Of course, I'll be leaving the door open in case you need me."

Besides, Lance had something else that he needed to stash away downstairs. He'd gotten a small section hollowed out underneath the counter and... he wasn't going to say how he'd gotten this or what it was (it was definitely illegal) but all that mattered was that he knew what he had to do and he'd deal with it all. In the event of a future emergency, it would be helpful. For now, though, it was just a precaution.

Shiro frowned at him, and leaned closer, basically draping himself over Lance -- slinging his arm over Lance's shoulder and pressing his weight on Lance's side. "Don't go," he whined in a long pout. "Why do you always have to be doing something? Why can't you be like me and be perfectly content with just laying around?"

"I can promise you that we'll have plenty of time for lounging around, but not right now."

He gave a long sigh, and leaned up off of Lance, pressing a little kiss to his cheek before leaning away. His hand groped for his pills on the table. "It's alright. Do what you want, my love," he said in a sarcastically forlorn sort of tone. Shiro popped open the container for Thursday, and dumped them into his hand. There were four -- the anxiety pill, the iron supplements, and two vitamins. The sleeping pills were in another bottle in the bathroom, put up in a cabinet with Lance's orders. Shiro gave a hesitant frown before taking them, still thinking about the possible side effects.

"Are we really sure this is the best way to go?" he asked, a little more serious as he gestured the collection of pills in his hands. "I've never been on antidepressants before... why should I need them now, huh?"

"Shiro, the doctor says that it's the best choice. You need these and- yeah, I'm a little hesitant to accept the fact that my boyfriend is now being drugged this much so he won't kill himself by refusing to sleep." He moved to the door. "I love you. I'll be right back, okay? I'm going to clean up downstairs first, just to get it out of the way."

"I love you, too," Shiro said, his voice a little pouty. "Don't be gone too long..."

Lance blew Shiro a kiss before slipping out of the room, opening a cupboard by the sink. He removed the stashed something, holding it by the handle as he began downstairs. It was slotted away under the desk with ease, fitting into it's cubby hole without an issue. He knelt down and checked to make sure that it was safely concealed- that Shiro wouldn't end up finding it- and was happy to say that he'd never see it without searching for it.

He moved back, sighing a little. The bookstore wasn't too dusty, so he just wiped off the cash register and organised the change that he'd left in it before going back upstairs. He closed the doors before moving to the bedroom, settling down with Shiro.

"See? I'm back. That wasn't too painful for my dearest darling boyfriend, was it? Hm? God forbid he has to endure longer than a few seconds at a time without his handsome, dashing loverboy."

Shiro smiled at him, feeling much brighter just at the sight of Lance and the sound of his voice. He leaned into Lance, letting their shoulders bump, and pressed a gentle kiss to Lance's cheek. "It was just awful," he murmured. "At least his loverboy was fast... did you really dust and sweep and all that other shit? It took you like four seconds."

"There wasn't too much to clean up, so I just wiped down the desk a little and put back a book that I'd been reading, don't worry too much."

He had taken his meds already, and was sipping on his water. Shiro knew none of them would take effect right away... but he did feel like something was missing when there was no instant lifting of his mood or untangling of worry the second he swallowed that antidepressant. He wondered if he would ever feel any sort of difference... maybe they had given him placebos or something like that? God, he wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to fall for some placebos. Shiro shook his head and gave a soft sigh, leaning off of Lance.

If anything, they were making him more nervous. More restless. That was a side effect, wasn't it? Rather ironic, if you had to ask him. A medication designed to lessen his anxiety just stressing him out? Pure gold. Shiro gave another huff of a sigh, and reached up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Do I have to stay in bed all day?" he asked, looking at Lance. "I wanna... I wanna maybe do something. Go on a fuckin' walk or something. Maybe not a long one. I still feel kinda shaky..."

"No, no, not all day. We can go on a walk soon- whenever you want to go. Just to the ice cream shop so we can thank Sven and Slav again, get you something sugary to get your energy back up a little, and then we'll come right back. How does that sound, sweetheart?" he asked, kissing gently along Shiro's jaw just to reassure him, to supply comfort.

Within about fifteen minutes, Lance had convinced Shiro to get out of bed and had him on his feet, getting dressed, and was pulling on a jacket for himself.

"We should go out now," he said as he glanced outside. "It'll be getting dark soon. We need to get there and back before it gets too much darker, okay?" he took Shiro's hand gently, his real one, and squeezed it. "I'm excited. I don't think we've been on a walk here together. Not yet. I usually just send you out and work on stuff here or vice versa." He brushed through his hair quickly before approaching Shiro and beginning to fix his hair, taming it a little. "I can't wait for us to hold hands in public. We've not really been able to do that yet- not unsupervised. I'm excited."

Shiro smiled, watching Lance as he toyed with his hair. Lance's hand brushed against Shiro's forehead... the same way it did all those months ago back in Shiro's shitty apartment. It caused Shiro's system to quiver with a feeling of pure comfort...

Without thinking, Shiro moved forward and pulled Lance into a kiss. He had one hand on Lance's waist to hold him close, and the other up by Lance's face, gracing his skin with the backs of his fingers. It was a position he held for a while, their kiss long, parted by quick little pauses for breath and such. By the time Shiro had pulled back, he found his breath taken away. Lost in Lance's lips. Shiro's tongue was tingling, his lips wet and his eyes hazy. He gave a little laugh, and pulled Lance even closer, pressing their bodies together as he gazed into the stupefied look in Lance's eyes.

"Did you know," Shiro started, his voice quiet. Gentle. "The first time you did that, brushed my hair off to the side, I think I started to fall in love with you? Your hand touched my head, and I freaked the hell out. Went outside the apartment and cried about it. I shoved it aside because I thought it was just me missing Adam but... but I think it was because I felt something for you and I didn't know how to process it..."

Shiro pressed his head against Lance's, their noses touching. "So, ice cream and hand holding?" Shiro asked before Lance could respond. "Sounds pretty damn nice to me."

Lance was still slightly processing this sudden declaration of Shiro's love when he nodded, pecking his lips before beginning to lead him downstairs. "Yeah. Yeah, of course, let's go. Are you sure you'll be warm enough? It's still January so I don't want you to be getting cold. If you get cold outside, I won't feel any sympathy for you." He kicked on his shoes and moved to the door, unlocking and opening it. "We should only be walking for twenty minutes or so, with a nice ice cream break in the middle. Let's go."

He waited until Shiro's hand was in his own again before locking the shop door and starting to lead Shiro down the road. They didn't notice an unfamiliar car parked nearby, but they still didn't know half of their neighbours so an unrecognised car didn't seem like too big of a deal. Lance walked alongside Shiro, and they both acted as if Shiro wasn't shivering after picking up a thin jacket and insisting he would be fine- but about five minutes into their walk, Lance had slid off his coat and tugged it onto Shiro as best as he could.

It didn't work as well as it did in movies, but that was just because Shiro was well over six feet tall and made of nothing but muscle while Lance was only barely reaching six foot, and was much scrawnier. The important thing, however, was that Shiro stood there with Lance's jacket pulled over his muscular form so tightly that Lance worried it would break. But it had stopped the shivering, and so Lance didn't mind. And, for once, Lance didn't feel like teasing Shiro for wearing his jacket when he'd insisted he wouldn't be cold.

He was just focused on holding his boyfriend's hand as they walked in silence. The village was much prettier now. Both because he was seeing it with Shiro, and because he wasn't stressed about cleaning up the bookstore. All that mattered was that, regardless of where they were, they had each other. They could be with each other. They loved each other.

By the time they had gotten to the ice cream shop, Lance was shivering, and Shiro had felt as though the circulation of blood in his arms had just been about cut off, so Slav and Sven settled then down by the space heater with two complementary cups of vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. Of course in January they didn't find too many customers, so Shiro and Lance were nearly alone in the shop aside from some nagging children who managed to catch a glimpse of an ice cream cone shaped sign. Shiro still held onto Lance's hand as he ate, their fingers linked. Lance's jacket had been draped about his shoulders rather than put all the way on — Lance had refused to take it back, despite Shiro's urging.

After a while Sven came to join them, Slav manning the counter for a bit as his husband took his break. They spoke for a bit, reassuring Sven that Shiro was fine and doing great. Shiro had been worried about being regarded with any sort of pity or caution, but Sven seemed to understand just fine, speaking with his normal intent and grandeur. Slav certainly didn't mind. He was as unpredictable and chaotic as ever.

Soon Sven went back to the counter, leaving Shiro and Lance alone again. Shiro leaned forward, running his thumb back and forth against the skin of Lance's hand. He smiled. "This was nice," he said softly. His voice was tired, his appearance and posture conveying the idea of his slight weariness even more so. Shiro certainly wouldn't mind a nap...

"It'll be even nicer to sleep this all off," he murmured, bringing Lance's hand up to kiss his knuckles. "You'll cuddle with me when we get back, won't you? You can leave to go do all your cleaning stuff after I fall asleep."  
"Oh, of course," Lance said sweetly as he looked up at Shiro. "I think I need a nap, too. We've definitely earned it." He set the spoon down in the empty tub, pushing it back a little. "Whenever you're finished, we can hurry home to wrap up warm in bed and go to sleep. I want to get wrapped up in bed with you, and I'm sure we have a hot water bottle somewhere in case it's still cold."

This was so perfect. He had to admit that Shiro's current health conditions weren't ideal, but the rest of this was sweet. It was exactly what he needed. All he ever wanted was to be with Shiro and finally, finally they were having a date. If this could even count as a date? Either way, he was with Shiro. That was what mattered to him. "I'll need to feed Blue and Black but aside from that, we'll be all set. You can start to warm up the bed for me, hm?"

Shiro nodded. "Hell," he muttered, leaning forward, a bright smile on his face. "That sounds just great..."

It really did sound great. So great, Shiro found himself finishing his cup of ice cream rather quickly, and rushing Lance out of the ice cream shop, eager to get home and take their nap. It was an ironic little thing, he silently mused as he waved goodbye to Slav and Sven, that he was so excited for something as simple as sleeping beside Lance again after a wild life of drugs and parties... but Shiro figured his contentment was validated by the whole not sleeping in nearly a month thing. They walked home, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, chattering and talking like they used to before Shiro fell off his railing. It was... well, it just felt right. Their enthusiasm. Shiro's enthusiasm. He felt like himself after so many weeks of not even realizing he had lost himself. He walked close beside Lance, feeling happier than happy. More comfortable that just simple comfort.

They didn't notice that the car from earlier was no longer there when they returned.

They got home, they went their way upstairs, and plopped their tired selves into the bed. Shiro snuggled his way beneath the covers quickly, holding open his arms in an open invitation for Lance. When Lance had settled down beside him, Shiro wrapped his boyfriend in the largest hug imaginable, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly clingy. Shiro left his one arm wrapped around Lance's waist as they laid down, Shiro resting his head upon Lance's chest, pressing in close. He heard Lance's heart beat beneath his rib cage, nearly falling in love with the sound all over again. 

Shiro gave a sigh, closing his eyes as he let his body slacken. "Mm. Let's just, like, never move again," he slurred tiredly, ice cream on his breath. "That seems pretty great to me."

"It sounds perfect," he said softly, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through Shiro's hair. The feeling of the embrace was comforting, providing him with warmth. He was able to relax- properly, for the first time in a while. He could settle down under these blankets, in his bed, without wondering about Shiro's health or what was causing his sudden restlessness. Finally, finally, he could settle down. He could curl up around his boyfriend, holding him close, feeling nothing but love and contentment. Finally, he could be happy.

"I've never been happier," Lance mumbled into Shiro's hair as he held onto him, closing his eyes. His heart rate increased a little just as it settled in that he was able to be so affectionate with Shiro. He tipped his boyfriend's head up slightly, met his eyes, and leant in to press a kiss to his lips before he settled back down. Just a small gesture, only a peck, to show his love.

A quiet sigh escaped his parted lips as he lay there. Blue leapt onto the bed shortly, slumping down beside the two of them. Black was curled up on the cushion beside Lance's head. For a few moments, it all felt so perfect. There was nothing but the light buzz of happiness in Lance's chest as he dozed off, his boyfriend's head on his chest, his dog by his side, his boyfriend's cat by his head.

Nothing had ever felt quite so right.


	44. Partners In Crime

It was early morning. The sun was streaming lazily in through the blinds, casting shadows across the apartment floor and along the walls. Lance had slid out of bed early, excited to get back to work. He stretched his arms over his head, arching his back a little and letting out a content sigh. The blinds were opened first, and then the bedroom door as Lance began to the kitchen.

 

Even the quietest rustling from Blue's food packet summoned the dog, and she was stood by Lance's feet before he'd even gotten it out of the cupboard. Black came trotting over shortly after, aware that Blue's feeding time was the same as her own. Lance prepared them both their breakfasts and set the bowls down on the floor, making sure they began eating from the correct bowls before beginning to make cereal. He ate a bowl of granola with greek yogurt, getting himself a drink of orange juice while he prepared his boyfriend's breakfast- a bowl of muesli with milk and a glass of apple juice. He got back to the bedroom and sorted the pills, collecting the ones that were supposed to be taken in the morning and placing them by the glass of juice.

He disturbed his boyfriend's sleep, kissing along his jaw as he brought him to sit up. He murmured a sweet good morning, asked how Shiro felt and how he had slept. A peaceful sleep, no nightmares. Lance pressed a soft and short kiss to his lips before setting the tray on Shiro's lap. He told him which pill was which- the antidepressant, the vitamins, just making sure Shiro was aware of what he was taking. Then, finally, he broke away to let Shiro eat in peace and went to the closet. He opened it, digging around to find his clothes for the day.

Today felt like it would be a good day.

He wore blue jeans with a white shirt (it had a picture of a cat on it) and his favourite green jacket. A few moments of taming his messy hair and Lance was ready for business. He told Shiro to meet him in the shop and began downstairs. First task on the agenda was to turn the sign to say they were open and begin sorting out their new delivery of books. If he were lucky, it wouldn't take more than an hour if Shiro helped. He was excited. He hadn't worked alongside Shiro in the shop since their opening day.

First things first, he brought through the boxes and set them by the counter. He checked the money, the change they had, and that the card reader was still working. He made sure that the lights worked without flickering and, wielding the handheld vacuum, he checked for spiders.

Then, as a final precaution, he made sure his little secret was still tucked away safely in its hiding place. He ran his fingers along the handle and, content, pulled away. He set the heating on in the shop and vacuumed up a spider that had just begun making a web. Finally, he was able to focus on the books. He sat on the floor in front of the desk and separated them into pile.

He could hear Shiro coming down the stairs just as he finished sorting the first box into piles of genres and carried the stack of adventure books over to their shelf. Perfect timing. He could order Shiro to separate the books while he organised them and put them in their rightful places. This may not be the tedium that Shiro had imagined himself doing every single day, but Lance enjoyed it and they both had to admit that it was better than drug deals and constant murder.

Lance heard the door open behind him and, smiling, greeted his boyfriend.

"Good morning, handsome," he said without even glancing over his shoulder. "I hope you're not still in your pyjamas. You know how I reacted last time you tried to get away with working in your pyjamas."

Shiro gave a long sigh, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "We are at home," he grumbled, stepping over to Lance's side and slumping himself down beside him. "I think it shouldn't matter if we're dressed to impress or not..."

"We may live here, but this is still where we work. Save the pyjamas for weekends."

Shiro, despite his pouting argument, wore jeans along with his baggier sweatshirt, along with socks and shoes that weren't slippers. He had combed his hair and brushed his teeth and even went as far as putting on some concealer to cover some of his blemishes and a few stray hickeys from a night or so ago of fun. He sat beside Lance, wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close for a few kisses to the cheek.

"Thank you for breakfast. I started up the dishwasher, dear," Shiro hummed as he pulled away. "I didn't wash any of the pots though. I'll do it during my next break, I promise."   
"Mhm, you'd better," Lance said as he turned his head and pressed a kiss to Shiro's cheek. "Your job is to sort these books into their genres. Order them while I put them in their designated slots," he said as he stood, lifting the second stack of books and beginning to slot them into place. "If anyone comes in, I'll apologise for the mess and you'll be serving them, okay?" He sent a glance to his boyfriend over his shoulder, smiling warmly.

"But I do appreciate that you dressed up for this. You look cute in that sweater. I wish you didn't have to tear off the sleeves of every single sweater your wore, though- I would have liked to wear that one."

Shiro snorted at him, scooting over to the pile of books. "Well, all you gotta do is lose an arm and then all my one-sleeved sweaters are yours, babe," Shiro joked, shrugging his shoulders up high before slumping down to scan the book types and book covers.

"Well, it's not that cute, thanks, but if I become an amputee I'll know exactly who to turn to."

Giving the softest huff of a chuckle, Shiro decided to get to work, shaking his head a little as he grouped all of the sci-fi novels to the right of him, and all the romance novels to the left. Each time Shiro completed a pile, Lance would wander over and take it to one of the labeled shelves, ordering each book in alphabetical order as he placed them in their perfect little spots. Soon the sci-fi, romance, mystery, dystopian, and YA sections had been stuffed enough to just about bust the bolting of their shelves. They had ordered extra books for those categories because they seemed to sell the fastest. There were still non-fictional books, books of short stories, and poetry books that had to be sorted, alphabetized, and categorized, but before Shiro could start their first customer of the day arrived. Shiro shot a grin at Lance, apologized for the mess like he was told to do, and hopped up to go man the counter. After that, the rest of the restocking was up to Lance while Shiro sat idly in the desk chair, sipping on soda from their mini fridge and helping the occasional customer whenever he could.

It was a slow day for a Thursday. It picked up a little when the kids got out of school, but aside from that it seemed much more dull than the past few days Shiro had helped out with Lance. It was a relief, he supposed, because Shiro was starting to grow a little tired -- his body addicted to the new amounts of sleep he was getting. The doctor had warned him against that... he said that if Shiro's new dreariness didn't seem to leave or caused too much of a problem they would change his sleeping pills out for something a lower dosage. After a long while of doing nothing but fiddling with desk toys (the Newton's Cradle Shiro had ordered finally came in just the day before!) Shiro gave a long sigh and hung his head.

"Is it closing yet?" he sighed. "And if it isn't can it be? It's nearly dark. No one's gonna show. I just wanna clean up and go watch a movie or something."

"Another hour," Lance said with a smile. "We need to stick to a schedule with this place and the only reason that business isn't booming is because we've been closed for the last three days."

He walked over to the desk and pressed his hand to Shiro's forehead, checking up on him.

"You're not too warm or anything, so are you just tired?" he asked, leaning in and pressing his lips to Shiro's for just a sweet moment. "I can go get us both some coffee if you need something to keep you going?"

Shiro smiled at the little kiss, already feeling energized from Lance's lips and Lance's touch alone. He kissed Lance back for a few moments, before pulling back and nodding. "Coffee would be nice..." he murmured, brushing aside some tufts of Lance's hair from his forehead. "I just kinda feel worn out. Well needed nap after closing... if I'm allowed to? Please?"

"Definitely. But only for twenty minutes before you're going to be doing the washing up you promised and helping me cook dinner. I'm thinking we could do pasta tonight. It'll be simple, but we can do that together. And I'll get the garlic bread for us to share. For dessert, we could bake a cake? Leave it cooking while we make the pasta?" He hummed a little, moving to the desk and turning on the radio to supply them with some quiet music.

"Sounds like a plan," Shiro said, nodding his head.

He moved away a short while later to finish slotting a pile of sci-fi books into their places. He took one of them and tucked it under his arm, though, figuring that Shiro would enjoy reading it. He slid it onto the desk and leant up onto his tiptoes, pressing his lips to his boyfriend's for just a sweet moment. The best times were when the shop was empty and they could kiss as they pleased- until the soft singing of the bell on the door would disturb them. Lance broke away with a smile. "I'll be back soon, okay? Keep an eye out for any customers and try not to accidentally be a dick again."

"Hey! That's not fair," Shiro pouted as Lance moved away. "I haven't accidentally been a dick in a while! At least four days!"

"Four days all spent sick or off of work!"

And, as promised, Lance disappeared around the corner. He'd added a coffee machine and a kettle into the other room for their breaks, and he'd likely only be gone for five or so minutes. He'd pressed another quick but loving kiss ot Shiro's lips before he had disappeared around the corner and called to him that if anything happened, he would just need to shout for him. Of course, nothing ever did happen, so when he said that he meant someone coming in for a book they didn't have or someone needing help that Shiro couldn't provide.

What he really didn't expect was... anything that happened next.

Shiro watched Lance go, leaning on the counter. He gave a long sigh, flicked his eyes to the door and gave the open sign a sour sort of look. A whole hour of standing around awaited him -- it just about made Shiro groan. He pushed off of the counter and wandered lazily about the room, blowing a long sigh from his lips as he searched for something to do.

His hands found a glass paperweight to fiddle with -- one of the little handmade trinkets Shiro and Lance had picked up from one of the nearby shops. Shiro had only gotten it because of the colors. The glass was clear, for the most part, but colored wisps of deep, menacing purple and a strange shade of extravagant pink expanded out from its core in long, flower like petals. Shiro turned the heavy thing in his hands, holding it up to the light. The purple glowed beneath the white of the ceiling light... it was pretty but... but it left Shiro feeling unsettled all of a sudden. The color of it...

It was chillingly familiar, but Shiro didn't really know why.

Shiro shrugged off the feeling and brought the paperweight back down. He turned it over in his hands some more, taking long, bored steps towards the counter. He leaned on it with his elbows, back to the door, head tucked down as he studied the silly little thing some more. Moments passed. The colors became boring. Shiro hung his head and rolled his eyes, getting ready to call out for Lance to come back and help his tricky little attention span.

There was a clicking of a door handle being turned, and then a jingle of that little bell that hung above the door frame. The hinges squeaked with their familiar charm as the thing opened and closed. Shiro lifted his head, hearing footsteps. He blew out a long breath through his lips, managing to keep back that grumbled groan he felt rising in his system.

"Hey, man," he muttered, pushing up from his elbows. He kept his eyes pointed downwards onto the paperweight, dully studying the stupid thing as he thought of a way to shake the new customer off his tail. "Look, we're about to close. Would you maybe mind coming back t-?"

"Takashi Shirogane. So this is the man you've become?"

Shiro felt as though his heart had stopped.

His words stopped in his throat. His hands stopped their idle turning of that colorful paperweight, freezing in place. His skin lost its feeling. His lungs lost their air. Shiro might have even seen his vision black out at the voice -- at the sneer and at the coolness. At the raspy vocals that rattled out in their familiar fashion from just behind him. Shiro felt as though his whole system had been petrified into stone. He couldn't move.

"Look at me, boy."

Shiro could move.

The obedience took him over -- the instant compliance shooting through his system like a reflex at the command. Shiro turned around, his eyes trained forward -- unmoving and unblinking. They met lavish boots, the bottom of a silver tipped cane, and the legs of an expensive black suit, pinstriped with thin white lines. Shiro stared at the small sight in horror, not daring to look up. No, if he looked up it would be real. He couldn't move...

"I said look at me."

He could move.

Shiro looked up. Despite his already dreadful knowing of whose face his wide, unblinking eyes would meet, Shiro felt his system explode with shock at the sight of Zarkon standing before him. The blood drained from his face. His lips parted in a silent, horrified sort of gape. His bottom lip quivered. The paperweight slipped from his hands and smashed into the floor with a fantastic explosion of purples and pinks and clear glass...

Shiro, ironically in his instance of thoughtlessness, remembered what the colors had reminded him of.

"Hello, Takashi," Zarkon said in his deep, darkened tone. He looked more real than anything, standing there before Shiro. When he spoke there was a soft echo about the room. When he cocked his head there was a rustle of stiff fabric. As he stared, his eyes glistened. Oh, all the little details were so finite and so real... there was no possible way he was a dream... "Aren't you going to say hello to your boss? Where is your respect?"

When Shiro spoke, his voice was dry. "You're not my boss anymore," he said in a half whisper. Shiro swallowed hard, and shook his head a little. His hands were trembling, but his body was still. Set in that stone from earlier. "Go away. Please. Just go away."

Zarkon watched him for a moment, and gave a soft huff. He took a step forward, and Shiro's body seemed to respond in only one very instant. He flinched, and took his own terrified step backwards -- bumping into the desk and rattling it. Zarkon gave that huff of laughter again, and continued prowling his slow way forward, head still cocked.

"What makes you think you have the authority to tell me what to do?" he said, rattling tone deep and spurring with anger. "You know why I'm here. You know what comes next. There will be no stopping it..."

 

Zarkon stopped walking. He was nearly two feet away...

"Not unless you take up this offer," he said, tone dropping down into the most demonic type of alluring Shiro had ever heard. Zarkon pinned Shiro with his stare. "You're the best hitman of the Galran Mafia. If you come back with me willingly and swear never to pull another one of your tricks, you might get out of this with only one scar."

Shiro watched him for a good collection of seconds, unable to even think. The next few words left him easily, though... almost without him knowing it.

"You'll kill Lance."

Zarkon huffed again. "Of course I will. He's ruined you. Tainted you," the man sneered. "However, his influence is futile. You will always be my monster. Always be my champion. You'll forget him. You forgot that other boy."

A pain struck Shiro, the feeling so intense he couldn't help but lash out. "I haven't forgotten Adam," he said, his voice louder, his breath catching. At the look that crossed Zarkon's face after Shiro's harsh snap, Shiro felt his sense of flashy rebellion sputter out. He couldn't back up anymore -- he was just about pressed against the counter -- so he just ducked his head and looked away. "Please. Go away. Don't do this to me. Please."

"Shall I take that as declining my offer?" Zarkon said, his voice bitter. "It really is what's best for you."

"I beg to differ," Shiro said dryly. His whole body was simply quivering with fear. Tears had gathered in his eyes but they just wouldn't fall. The lump in his throat strangled him. He kept his eyes on the floor.

There was a moment of silence. Shiro almost became hopeful at it, his system desperately searching for positives. But then there was a sigh and a rustling of clothing. Shiro snapped his head back up at the clicking sound of a gun being cocked, and he felt his whole body go numb at the nose of that pistol that watched him with its round eye of infinite blackness.

"Why don't you get to that begging then?" Zarkon growled, his tone ugly and malicious. 

 

Shiro didn't say anything. He was frozen again. Petrified. Shiro didn't even know if he had been breathing.

It was then he felt the overwhelming feeling of complete and utter defeat wash over him, the sensation letting loose a free tear, the little droplet of fear coursing down the curvature of his cheek and clinging to his jaw. Shiro was going to die. Lance was going to die. Oh God! Lance was going to die and there was nothing he could do! He felt more despondent than he had ever felt before in his entire life. More afraid. More weak. More helpless and more useless.

And, for some reason, Takashi felt more alone than ever before in his long life of fear.

Lance had heard the shattering. The conversation. He had never heard Zarkon's gravelly voice before and he hadn't expected Shiro to instantly revert into such a subservient state upon hearing his cruel words. He heard the rustling, the cocking of the gun, and his blood ran cold. This was what he had intended on doing. This was what he had prepared for. His sole duty was to Shiro, to protect him. He was still legally a police officer (ignoring the technicalities) and his oath to serve and protect had never been more important to him.

Today, it came to a matter of life and death of the man that mattered to him most.

He moved from the back room, his eyes flickering from his boyfriend to the man stood before him. He could only imagine it to be Zarkon. Even if he hadn't heard their conversation and listened to Shiro calling this man his boss, it was clear. His demeanour radiated confidence, power, and he had a demanding authority about him. He seemed too careless and casual. He seemed to be totally in control of the situation.

He looked between them again, noting the fear on Shiro's face. The casual confidence about Zarkon's expression. He couldn't quite say that Zarkon was smiling, but his lips seemed to have slightly curved upwards.

"I'll take it you're Zarkon," Lance greeted with a cold, malicious tone. He summoned every little morsel of hatred in his body when he spoke, aware of the nightmares, the sleepless nights, the horrors that Shiro had experienced. Aware of Lotor, how he was living in fear that the second he stepped out of Arus mafia territory, he wouldn't return. Aware of the blood that now stained his own hands.

Too many lives had been ruined by this vile man. It wasn't difficult to hate him.

Shiro's breath hitched, and he felt himself tense at Lance's voice. "Lance?" he asked wildly. "Lance. Go. Get the fuck out of-"

The gun clicked again, and there was a stern look from Zarkon, commanding his silence. Shiro shut his mouth, and let a few more tears slip. He watched as Zarkon turned his head to gaze upon Lance, Shiro's innards feeling as though they had been frozen inside of him -- like his blood had been frozen. Again, he was rendered useless.

Lance took a step forward, slow and cautious, keeping his eye out for even a twitch that could indicate intent to fire. He'd been trained for hostage situations, armed negotiations, unpredictable or unstable criminals, but he hadn't been trained for this. He hadn't been trained for the day he would face a merciless killer, incapable of feeling anything but hubris for his work. He hadn't been trained for facing a man with a gun and more than enough reason and willpower to fire it. Consistently, he was taught that he would be the one calm, collected, and armed in these situations. Never had he been told what to do if the criminal fit the same description.

Another step. No reaction from Zarkon aside from the amusement shining lightly in his eyes.

"Zarkon Daibazaal. I can recall my first briefing about you." He was stalling. He was very clearly stalling. The three of them knew it, though only Zarkon would be aware of how long this stalling would work for. He sent a glance to his boyfriend as if he was trying to convey one simple message. 'I know what I'm doing'. He didn't think Shiro believed it.

 

He wasn't sure that he would, either.

Zarkon gave an amused sort of grin. He cocked his head. "You do?" he asked in a dominant sort of hum, cocking his brow.

Nodding, he took another step, stopping there. Halfway to the desk.

"It was November, two years ago. I was new. I had spent weeks, months, trying to get to join the case against you. I'd memorised all of the information on the case before I was supposed to be able to access it. I was assigned to Takashi. We had the most information on him. Someone even believed we had a partial fingerprint from one of his previous hits. I was told to work every single detail until I couldn't think of any reasonable outcome and to work each one until I had a new lead." He was speaking cautiously, considering each word. One wrong word, one curse, one slightly misplaced malice in his tone, and it could be over. So, so soon.

He looked up at Zarkon, maintaining eye contact. He was intimidating. He had to admit that. The second their eyes locked, fear had sent a cold jolt down Lance's spine. Goosebumps ran along his arms and the hair on the back of his neck stood up straight- but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that Shiro's life counted on it. He took another step. He continued speaking.

"This was my first case. I'd only worked minor thefts until then. My biggest case, before being assigned to Takashi, was that a local school had had bicycles stolen. Being given such a big role- I spent so many nights awake, studying the details. I can't remember when I found out about the warehouse, or what clues led me to it. I just remember going to work the following morning, having had nothing but a coffee for almost a full twenty-four hours. I hadn't slept in three days, but my breakthrough was big news. The task force had something new to work from." He shifted his weight to his forward foot, his eyes flickering for just a second to the gun in Zarkon's holster before he met his eyes again. He could feel Shiro staring at him. He could almost feel the fear radiating from him.

He took another deep breath. Now wasn't the time to get caught up. Fear could wait if he lived to experience it. The sole thing that mattered to him right now was getting to the counter.

"I assume that you're familiar with the name Allura?" He paused, not wanting to seem rude by continuing before he could get a response.

"How can I forget the name of such a pest?" Zarkon asked in return. He was interested. Interested in that silly boy's tactic of stalling. What would he do? Would he try to attack? The moment Zarkon would catch any sort of attempt at rebellion, he would pull the trigger. Maybe then he would just leave. Leave the body and the boy to deal with it. Such an event would surely break him... Zarkon knew how the human brain ticked.

"Allura Altea, she was an associate of mine. She was in charge of the operation. She had fought to make your case the top priority for the precinct. This was still recent after the murder of Alfor, and she was determined to make everything right again. I told her about this lead and she began to check the site. We didn't know that Shiro only stopped in once a month- just for updates, for drug deals with some superiors. And, after four months of checking this place and making sure that we had the correct location, enough evidence to bring down whoever we could take in, we struck."

Another step- he was only two steps from the counter now. His eyes were still locked with Zarkon. He could see the wheels turning in his mind. He knew Zarkon was curious. Interested, but only because he wanted to know what the outcome of this story could be.

"This was my case, and I had requested backup for exactly eleven pm. I wasn't going to wait. This was my first big bust, the first time I had gotten the genuine chance to prove myself. I can't imagine that you've needed to prove yourself, but you've recognised when newbie's want to show their worth. They're hasty, make mistakes, and it gets them in more trouble than good. Doesn't it?" He brought his feet together and, again, waited. He needed to pace this out. Seeming rushed, dashing for the counter- that would get him killed. Or, worse, it would earn Shiro a bullet between the eyes. Lance didn't want Shiro to face punishment for his mistakes- much less in a situation as perilous as this.

"Well, of course," Zarkon drawled, clicking his sharp, filed fingernail upon the handle of the gun, watching the way each little tap seemed to unwind the panic behind Shiro's eyes further and further. "Rookies are idiots. It is rare they survive. It's your silly mistake that ruined everything, anyways." Zarkon gave a hum, and nodded, narrowing his eyes. "If you just had a little bit of sense in you, we wouldn't be in this situation, would we? You would be home. I would be home. Takashi would be home, and not behind the barrel of my gun... This is all because of your arrogance, Lance McClain... Do you agree, Takashi?"

Shiro tensed at his name, his jaw locked. He'd been watching the scene unfold before his very horrified eyes, his throat caught up and his eyes spilling with the silentest of tears. Watching Lance just stand there -- just talking, just accepting his fate --had been nearly pulling Shiro apart. He wanted to yell at him. To scream at him. Shiro needed to make sure Lance knew that this was his fight. If anyone was going to die, it was going to be Shiro. He just... he just couldn't get the words out...

"I asked you a question!" Zarkon said sharply, voice raised to just below an angered shout. "Answer your superior."

The words fell from Shiro's obedient lips in a terrified sort of whisper. "I don't think it's his fault," he breathed, gasping a bit after the sentence had left him. "I don't think it's his fault at all... It's not... it's mine... be mad at me. Not him. Not h-"

"Shut up," Zarkon sneered.

Shiro shut himself up.

"It was my fault," Lance nodded. He didn't move now. The tension in the room had risen, and now it was too risky to take that final step now. God, if Shiro could have just said yes and left it at that, like would have been smart in this situation- no. No, Lance wasn't going to let frustration cloud his thoughts now. Shiro had been sticking up for him. He couldn't get angry at him for that. Not for defending him.

Especially not right now.

"It was my fault that all of this happened. I didn't wait for backup. I'd told them to arrive for eleven and they were late. I wasn't going to risk my bust because they were late! So I took the risk. I had a team of ten, and I let them arrest the inferiors. The people packaging, separating the doses. I left my team to them and went up the stairs alone. I've never fired a gun before. Not a real gun, not at a real person. Target practice, of course. I had the highest accuracy of everyone in the academy, so I assumed I'd be able to pull the trigger in the heat of the moment. I see the first door up the stairs and I break it down, expecting to see one or two people that would submit without a fight."

He sent a glance to Shiro for just a second- then focusing on the hand settled on Zarkon's gun. His hold on the handle had tightened a little, but he hadn't tried to withdraw it. Lance's eyes fixed back on the man before him. He took a bold risk and took one more step. He was just by the counter. He couldn't make any moves yet, though, so he just stood there. He spoke again.

"Instead, I open the door to see several people. The most notable were Takashi, Keith, and Sendak. They drew their weapons. I was paralysed for a moment before I attempted to arrest them. As you've likely figured out, it wasn't successful. Sendak wanted to waste me. On my first job, I'd been too hasty and stormed in too soon, and I was afraid that I'd die for such a mistake. Shiro interrupted. He stopped Sendak- saving my life." His eyes were fixed on Zarkon still- who had loosened his hold on the gun. Lance had had his hands by his side, so he began to discreetly feel under the desk for the little slot. The item he had tucked away.

His hand found the hilt and he began pulling it back- slowly. Cautiously. His movements were almost undetectable. He kept talking, though. He didn't want to risk letting Zarkon notice.

"I managed to leave, alive. Unharmed. But so did Sendak, Keith, and Shiro- the very man I needed to arrest, that happened to be there on the right night. Who I could have arrested if I had waited for backup. I was shaken. I'd almost died. I skipped work the following few days, but I went out twice and both times, I ended up bumping into Takashi. The first time, we were in a Starbucks. Shiro took my to the back room, to the smoking zone, and threatened me. Told me that if I snitched on him for anything, he'd cut my tongue out. The following day, we met when my dog, Blue, could smell the sandwich Shiro had ordered. We would have just walked past each other without realising if she hadn't tugged her leash from my grip and knocked him over."

Zarkon watched Lance curiously as he went on. His arm was growing tired -- the muscles of his biceps and his forearm growing weary with the constant position. "Your story is boring me, boy," he grumbled, lowering his arm a little. The nose of the gun sank from the fatal spot of Shiro's head, down to the not so fatal spot of Shiro's stomach. Shiro let out the briefest sort of sigh, his shoulders relaxing. "Please, tell me there's a reason you're telling me such pointless facts about your pointless lives."

"I shouldn't need to give you a lecture on patience, Zarkon. There's a reason, and one that you'll want to know."

His hand fell by his side, but he held the item tightly, waiting for his opportunity. He could easily have called the police for help by now if he felt it was appropriate but... but he hadn't. And calling them now would be dangerous.

"The day you assigned Shiro to kill me was the day he helped me hide. Security cameras were disabled, everything was cleared up. He didn't kill me, he saved me, and he hid me in his apartment. I stayed in the spare bedroom while he had visits- Keith more frequently than others, but occasionally Sendak came over. I kept my mouth shut whenever I needed to be, and I spent all of my spare time cooking for Shiro or cleaning up, which brought suspicion from Sendak."

He kept his eyes on Zarkon. He could tell that he was getting bored. He continued regardless.

"Sendak asked where Shiro had gotten the dog from, and Shiro lied. Said that he didn't want to leave the dog in my apartment after I was shot, and Sendak ended up taking one of Blue's leashes." The direction of his story must have been clear to Shiro by now. He was building it up, even if this boredom was putting his life at risk.

Zarkon seemed to falter a little at the mention of Sendak. It was a topic of anger and personal attention. He lowered the gun more -- it pointed to the ground. If it were to hit Shiro, it might have just been his foot. "Sendak," he muttered quietly. "Is that where this story is going?"

All in a second, Lance and Zarkon had guns drawn and raised. Lance had cocked his gun and raised it quick, aiming for Zarkon's head. Evidently, Zarkon had done exactly the same. They were at a standoff. One wrong move could end a life. Neither of them pulled the trigger- not just yet. Lance didn't want to die, so he let his finger rest on the trigger but didn't pull it. He was ready to, but he didn't.

"Put the gun down," Lance ordered sharply, his voice loud and authoritative. "I'm giving you one last chance to end this without any fatalities. If you put down the gun, if you walk out of here and never come back, I might consider not shooting you in the back of the head! I'm giving you your fair warning to leave peacefully, or I swear to god you'll be leaving in a fucking body bag!"

Shiro gave a heavy gasp at the change, flinching and freezing up yet again. He followed the nose of Zarkon's gun right to Lance's head, and his heart skipped several of its beats. Lance's gun had shocked him, but Zarkon's aim on him somehow shocked him more... his knees went weak at the sight. Shiro held himself upright, however, with his own rage, the fury billowing up inside of him at the sight of Lance in such of situation.

It was happening again! Oh God! It was happening again!

Shiro had tensed himself mindlessly, turning to Zarkon, his eyes a mindless fury, teeth gritted and bared. He hadn't exactly had any of that fancy hostage training that Lance had gotten, and he didn't have the stable mindset either. He wasn't even thinking.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Shiro shouted, tears streaming down his face. He was shaking so bad he could barely even stand, but he prepared himself to lunge for Zarkon anyways, only stopping when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

"Shiro, I swear to god, just shut up! For once, just shut up!" Lance shouted, gritting his teeth. His eyes were fixed on Zarkon, watching for the slightest movement yet again. "I don't want your mistakes getting me shot, so shut the fuck up and take a few steps back! Get some kind of cover!" If Zarkon targeted Shiro instead of Lance, he'd shoot him the second the gun began to move. Zarkon only had two options here- Shoot or get shot.

Shiro felt a numb thrumming of shock course through his system, but he stayed silent anyways, swallowing hard as he flicked his gaze from Lance to Zarkon. Shiro didn't move though, he kept his feet planted firm upon the ground. He watched the guns -- he watched them hard. Particularly Zarkon's finger. Shiro knew what to do if Zarkon decided to shoot.

Shiro poised himself again, sniffling as he watched. He knew what to do.

Lance's eyes didn't flicker away from Zarkon. He kept his eyes fixed on Zarkon's hands, just to make sure he wasn't going to pull the trigger. Zarkon's fingertip was lifted off of the trigger a little. Not by much, but enough for Lance to be able to notice if Zarkon planned on pulling the trigger. He was being optimistic, he knew this. If Zarkon decided to pull that fucking trigger, Lance may be able to see his fingers move but not even the fastest reflexes could get him out of the way before a bullet entered his skull.

"I'm serious, Daibazaal. You've done more than enough disgusting shit! I'm going to take you out once and for all- for Shiro's sake and for Lotor's sake! Put the fucking gun down or die before you can fire it!"

Zarkon gave a laugh -- not a huff or a snicker. A laugh. A cackle. He shook his head, eyes wide with excitement. "What a pathetic show you two present," he said, his voice nothing but enthused. "We have a monster with a death wish, and then an innocent filled with empty threats. You would never shoot me, McClain. You admit yourself you had never shot another man. You have never killed another man. You're too weak. Such a deed would crush you with guilt."

He kept sight of Shiro in his peripheral... he hadn't expected such a reaction from such a loyally submissive soldier. Zarkon made sure to keep his posture tight -- coiled like a spring. He would snap and shoot Shiro without hesitation if the man decided to move. He'd just have to move quickly... and even if he didn't... Lance would be left alone with two bodies on his conscious.

That was enough for Zarkon.

"You can act as brave as you want, Lance McClain, but I know who you are. You are a child. You are a rookie. I know it. Shiro knows it. You know it. We all know how useless you are." Zarkon's voice was dipped into a menacing sneer. "You don't have me fooled for a second."

"How useless I am?" Lance echoed, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Sendak died on the kitchen floor in Shiro's old apartment. That was what my story was building up to. Sendak found my prints on the leash and came to visit, and no more than twenty minutes later, he was dead. Suffocated with a plastic bag and held in place for thirty seconds after his pulse had faded, just to make sure. You want to know how I know?"

Lance didn't wait for an answer this time. A grin curled onto his lips.  
"I saw to it myself. I pulled the bag over his head. I held him in a chokehold to my chest. I felt him squirm and writhe against me, scratching my forearms to get me to release him. I felt him grow frantic as he realised I wasn't going to release him. I felt him weaken in my hold and I felt him slump in my arms. I checked his pulse, feeling his heartbeat. I felt it increase, drumming so hard against his chest it almost broke free. I felt it through his skin as his heart stopped beating. I murdered Sendak and I don't regret it. His blood is on my hands and I feel no shame. No remorse. I killed to ensure Shiro's safety and I would do it again."

He held tighter to the handle of his gun, his eyes flickering to meet Zarkon's for just a moment.

"So feel free to doubt me, but you'll see where that gets you. Sendak made the same fatal mistake."

Zarkon's eyes rounded a little. He snapped his gaze to Shiro for a moment for any sign of confirmation... there were no signs of shock or disbelief about his features at all... just a look of dismal truth as he watched Lance seal his fate. Zarkon grit his teeth, and looked back to Lance, feeling his own anger bubble up inside of him.

"You idiot..." he seethed, voice low and grumbling. "That was the worst mistake of your life, boy. Second is even daring to tell me the truth..."

"And your worst mistake will be doubting me. It'll definitely be your last."

Shiro felt his nerves snap. He didn't move, but he watched in horror as Zarkon readied his finger for the shot. Would that be the end? That gentle moment of still time before Zarkon would press down with his finger? Shiro didn't know. Shiro didn't care. Instead he focused on Zarkon's finger, tuning everything else out. He'd move the moment Zarkon would. He'd jump after Zarkon couldn't go back. He'd take the bullet.

Without hesitation.

Zarkon squared his shoulders and set his feet. "Speaking to me like that will be your last mistake!" he shouted. "You'll pay for what you did! Everything!"

Zarkon was read. Shiro was poised. Lance was silent, watching. The moment passed and life moved on quickly -- too quickly. Lance's hold on the gun tightened. Zarkon's temper was getting out of control now. His vicious shouting was full of malice, aggression, and he was losing the control over the situation that he'd held so dear when he had first arrived.

"Everything!"

/Bang/


	45. The Aftermath

'You never hear the shot that kills you.'

The gunshot left Lance's ears ringing. One sentence rang prominent through his mind. One little piece of information- all that he had needed to know.

'You never hear the shot that kills you.'

He stood there, his arms locked in position as he felt the recoil from the gun. His index finger had curled around the trigger, pulling it. He watched Zarkon, opposite him, slump to the floor, the bullet lodged somewhere in his brain. Lance had pulled the trigger. He had fired the winning shot. He held the gun tightly still, not wanting to take a second chance, and approached the body. He kicked away the gun from Zarkon's hand. Of course, Lance knew that dying in such a manner was instantaneous, but... he hadn't quite expected it to be that instantaneous. Perhaps he'd expected some final words. Some low curse, some threat or some idle promise that this wouldn't be over for Lance or for Shiro.

But no.

As the blood oozed steadily from the wound in Zarkon's forehead, leaving a vibrant pool of crimson on their carpet, Lance watched. He waited. He was met only with silence. Zarkon was dead, and the nightmare was over. He was no more than a mortal, after all, no matter how he acted like a God; no matter how often he was treated like one. The bullet in his brain, the one that had killed him, it was the same weapon as could have been used to kill any other human. It was the same one as could have been used to kill an animal. And so, with nothing but a regular bullet for a regular enemy, Zarkon lay dead on the floor.

Lance knelt down. The barrel of the gun pressed to Zarkon's head as he reached to check his pulse. He counted to ten and, when content that Zarkon's heart had truly stopped, he pulled back. He straightened up. He dropped the gun to the floor. Pushing back his grief was easy. It was routine by now. Pushing back the emotions that bound him to the deed he had done was easy. Now, his eyes fixed on his boyfriend and he held out his arms. Not a drop of blood had stained Lance. He wasn't sullied by the blood that he had spilled. He turned to face his boyfriend, suddenly wrapping both arms around him. Shiro was trembling in his arms, but Lance was no better. He clung to his boyfriend, holding him to his chest.

He would deal with the atrocity of what he had done later. He would deal with it later.

Right now, all that mattered was comforting Shiro. The one thing on his mind was looking after his boyfriend and making sure that Shiro hadn't been too badly affected by this. He needed to make sure that Shiro wasn't panicking, or hyperventilating, or anywhere near instability. His first priority was always going to be Shiro.

Why else would he had killed two men?

Why else wouldn't he regret it?

That didn't matter. None of that mattered. What did matter was that Shiro's breathing seemed a little erratic but no more than what was to be expected from someone who had witnessed murder. He was slightly more pale than usual but Shiro had previously mentioned his sensitivity when it came to loud noises- like gunshots- so it was to be expected. Shiro's hands trembled but Lance held them and gently kissed each of his knuckles, attempting to soothe him.

"Shiro," Lance said softly in such a calm voice that it almost didn't seem like it was his own. "You're safe here now. Are you listening to me? You're safe now." He moved one hand to delicately to cup Shiro's cheek. "You'll always be safe. I'll make sure of it."

Shiro didn't hear Lance, really. He barely felt him, his skin felt so numb. The bang had been ringing shrilly in his ears. Reverberating about his skull like the forlorn echos of his past. He hadn't heard a gunshot in so long. He hadn't seen someone die by one in so long either...

Shiro's eyes were trained on the body. The corpse of Zarkon. The lifeless form of the man who had taken everything from him. His mind. His love. His soul. His innocence. The blood of the man who had broken him suddenly seemed like it was everywhere... on the flooring... on the counter... on... on Shiro's clothes. He looked down at himself. The blood was splattered about his sweatshirt. The sight made Shiro feel like throwing up.

He finally felt Lance. Lance's hands and Lance's touches. Shiro heard him saying something -- but the voice was distant. He couldn't really say he cared how slurred and blotted Lance's words had been to him, no. He just cared that Lance's face was before him, blurred with tears but safe from bullet holes and blood. Shiro reached up a hand to touch his face, but froze when he noticed the speckles of claret dancing about his fingers, smearing when he rubbed his middle, forefinger, and thumb together. His nausea overtook him in an instant.

"I... I think I'm gonna be sick," he whispered, legs wobbling beneath him. Shiro sagged forward, Lance catching him with an impossible sort of strength. They eased down to a sit, leaned up against the counter. Once Lance had snatched Shiro the trash bin, Shiro relieved himself of that nasty lump rising in his throat. Lance rubbed his back, watching his trembling when he leaned up and shoved the bucket away.

Shiro turned to face Lance, and offered up a scowl. "You idiot," he said, his voice reduced to a shaky breath. Shiro reached up to wipe new tears away, smearing them along with the blood. "I thought... I thought you were going to die! Lance! How could you do that to me? How could you just let me stand there and watch! That... that was so stupid! I-... I..."

The anger fizzled out, and Shiro lunged forward, enveloping Lance into the tightest, most desperate of relieved hugs. Shiro hugged Lance tighter than he thought possibly, his fingers digging into the trembly muscle of Lance's back as he pulled him closer and closer. Shiro pressed his head into Lance's shoulder, not caring about the blood or the tears. He just wanted to hold Lance close to him.

He's safe... he's safe, Shiro... he's safe...

"I love you," Shiro said shakily. "Holy shit. I love you. Don't you ever do that to me again. I could never lose you. Not like that... God, I love you so much..." Lance's arms wrapped back around Shiro and he held him close, closing his eyes as he leant into his boyfriend's embrace. He was tempted to just slump against him, to let out every single emotion he was feeling right now- but he couldn't take that risk. Right now, he was Shiro's stability. He couldn't jeopordise that. He couldn't afford to risk it.

He finally broke away a few moments later, moving his hands to cup Shiro's cheeks as he looked up at him.

"I knew what I was doing, Shiro," he said softly. "I knew exactly what I was doing. This was a risk I had to take. If I hadn't come in and attempted to do what I did, he would have killed you and then he would have come to kill me." He leant in, pressing a delicate kiss to Shiro's lips. It lingered there, sweet and loving yet slow, and so full of desperation.

Lance broke away. He spared a glance behind Shiro, at the corpse, and sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

"I'm going to deal with this. I'll deal with it right now- I need to start cleaning up the blood now or it'll stain more than it's already going to." He ran his fingers through Shiro's hair gently. "You need to do me a favour, okay? And I know it's going to be difficult after watching that but you need to go upstairs and call Lotor. Tell him about this and ask him to get on the next flight over. I can't get rid of a body and he knows how to do everything we need to do. Besides- he needs to know that we've killed Zarkon. I love you, Shiro. I'll be just down here so that I can move the body and clean up the blood."

Shiro shook his head. "You shouldn't have to do that," he muttered shakily. "Let me do it. I know how... you shouldn't have to do it."

"My first priority is getting you out of here. I can do it, and I will do it. I pulled the trigger so I will deal with the consequences. I'm not going to push this onto you." He cupped Shiro's cheeks, leaning up and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I told you, didn't I? When we were in the car after what happened with Sendak, I told you that I'd do it all over again to keep you safe." A small smile appeared on his features and he looked into his boyfriend's eyes. "And I stood by my promise. And now, I'm going to send you upstairs to talk to Lotor so that you don't have to do the dirty work for the crime I committed. No arguing."

Shiro swallowed hard. His head was spinning. He nodded, quiet and compliant.

He pulled back, making sure to keep his boyfriend's back to the horror scene behind him, not even daring to look at the body. It made him feel nauseous. "And you aren't allowed to come back in here until I say so. So keep talking to Lotor for as long as you can. Ask him to keep you on the phone until I call for you, alright?" He pressed his lips to Shiro's knuckles before leaning up, hooking one arm around his neck, and kissing him again. They didn't have time for any proper kisses (and Lance didn't particularly want to waste time kissing when there was a body that they needed to deal with) but the short and fleeting kisses were just as comforting as any other. That was what mattered.

Finally, Lance had gotten Shiro to the stairway and stood at the door, stopping Shiro from turning back or coming downstairs again, waiting until Shiro's footsteps had disappeared upstairs and the door had closed behind him. He'd leave Shiro to call Lotor, give him the easy job. Lance had a lot more to deal with that he couldn't bear to burden Shiro with.

Shiro's hands still trembled as he looked for his phone. His crying had been reduced to nothing but a red, tear stained face and some sniffles, and his breathing hadn't been as erratic or panicked, but his hands still trembled. Shiro tried not to think of Lance downstairs doing all of that dirty work... Shiro tried not to think about how it should have been him dealing with the body. He tried not to think about how if he hadn't been so pathetic and so terrified of Zarkon and the power the man had over him, Lance wouldn't have to do any of that stuff. Lance had already killed him! Lance... Lance killed someone... again...

His hand found his phone somewhere beneath the covers. Blue had been under the bed, panting out soft whines of fright — the sounds of the gun and the yelling must have scared her. As Shiro dialed in Lotor's number with one hand, he kicked off his shoe and moved his foot under the bed to rub Blue's belly... he would have done it with his hands but... they were covered in blood.

The phone rang. It rang again. It rang a third time and-

Click.

The voice over the phone told Shiro that Lotor Daibazaal had been speaking, and Shiro's words left him the instance he was granted silence.

"Zarkon is dead," he said, not even telling Lotor who had been speaking. Lotor would be able to recognize him. "He's dead. Downstairs. I'm upstairs. Lance shot him. He's, uh, he's here and he's dead."

A few long moments of silence passed. A soft sigh escaped Lotor and he leant back in his chair, listening to Shiro's words and repeating them again and again in his mind.

"He found you," he said softly. "And Lance shot him." Another few moments passed before Lotor was getting up, and Shiro could hear a muffled, incoherent conversation between him and Allura. The phone came back to Lotor's ear and he settled at his desk, beginning to type on his laptop. "We'll be on the next plane over. Allura and I can deal with the more specific details if you can deal with the corpse temporarily and fix the blood. Who you killed isn't going to matter until the body is dealt with."

The last sentence seemed more like Lotor reminding himself. A passive way to say that he wasn't going to get caught up on the death of his father until after his current mission had been dealt with. "Tell Lance that we will get everything under control as long as he can cover up that anything happened. We'll be there early tomorrow- midday at the latest." They had already bought the tickets and Lotor was beginning to the door. They wouldn't be packing or getting ready for anything- all required items could be gathered at a drop point that the Arus mafia had only around an hour away from where Shiro and Lance lived. Lotor was in the passenger side, the phone to his ear. Shiro needed his support right now.

He clipped in his seatbelt.

"You're stressed, Shiro, so keep talking to me. Tell me exactly what happened." By now, Blue had wriggled out from under the bed to get more pets from Shiro, still trembling and quietly whimpering.

"I'm fine," Shiro said, his voice quiet and distant. He felt numb all of a sudden — his body was buzzing with the simple static of dull, thrumming shock. His mind felt empty, his thoughts slowed and sluggish. He eased down to sit on the side of the bed, reaching one hand down to rub Blue with the dorsal side of his palm. The side without the blood. "I feel fine, Lotor."

Shiro gave a soft sigh, and closed his eyes. He wanted to go to sleep... the bed felt so soft beneath him. It took a lot for him to keep himself sitting upright. "I was working the shop with Lance. I was kinda sick. In the hospital a few days ago," he muttered quietly, just speaking without his common thought. "Sleep deprivation and stuff. Lance left to make coffee, and then Zarkon walked in..." Shiro trailed off, shaking his head.

"It's because I called you," he said, a dull huff of realization cutting about his tone. Shiro closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. "He traced my call. This is all my fault..." Shiro cut his pouting tone short with a hard swallow. "Lance is dealing with the body. He told me to stay upstairs but he doesn't know how to... he doesn't know how. I'm going to go help him."

"If he told you to stay there, he did it for a reason. Trust him on this. You can talk to him about this stuff later. I'll stay on the phone with you until Lance comes back upstairs, then I'll leave you two to talk. Okay?"

Shiro gave a soft sigh, reluctant and bitter. "Alright," he said quietly. "Alright. Sure... Whatever."

He paused for a few moments, thinking. "How are you doing, Lotor?" he asked, suddenly concerned. "This... this is a lot to hear. I'm sure."

"No, no, it's... it's nothing. Nothing that can't be sorted for another few days," he said honestly, a small smile on his lips. "My father was a vile and corrupt man, his death is nothing but good news. Using my alliance with Allura, I can drastically reduce the lives lost in both of our mafias. Trust me, I've dealt with worse and I will deal with this. I'm more concerned about how you feel after witnessing it."

Shiro offered nothing but a twitch of a smile, and hung his head forward. "Alright... but... but if you need a hug when you get here, I've got open arms," he said quietly. "I'm feeling all sorts of wrong and he was just my boss... I wouldn't be surprised if you needed to break down." Shiro lifted his head up and looked down at his hands. He gave an empty laugh -- a cruel, sniffling, empty sort of huff. "I... I think I might be breaking down right now..."

"I wouldn't be surprised," he murmured softly. "It was a cruel thing to have to witness. I found it difficult to hear about, seeing it happen must have been agonising."

As promised, Lotor continued to listen to Shiro ramble and keep him occupied for a long while. He listened and spoke and comforted until the door opened downstairs.

"Babe?" Lance's voice came as he began upstairs, having temporarily dealt with the body. He waited for a response, beginning to the bedroom. He peeked around the doorway. "Hey, baby. How are you feeling?" He began inside, walking over to Shiro. Blue was now on the bed, lying on her back while Shiro pet her stomach. Lance approached, taking Shiro's hand and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "How do you feel about a bath? We can order some takeout to arrive in about two hours and spend our time sharing a bath and relaxing until then."

Shiro nodded, quiet. He said goodbye to Lotor and hung up, setting the phone down on the bed. He looked at Lance with empty eyes, still idly rubbing on Blue.

Lance seemed to be in an oddly good mood for someone who had committed murder. He smiled, kissing Shiro's cheek again. "I think it's a solid plan for now, you know? We can take a shower first just to clean ourselves off and then we can have a bath together. When we're done with that, we can have some hot chocolate and get into our laziest, comfiest clothes while we wait for our food to arrive."

He just wanted to find some way for them both to relax for today. Just for today. Tomorrow, when Lotor and Allura were here, they would deal with this head on. For now, all that Lance cared about was Shiro and making sure that his boyfriend didn't go insane with guilt over today's events.

Eyes still dull and darker, Shiro watched Lance. He tried to match Lance's sudden sense of positivity... but he couldn't. He still felt too numb. Too hollow. Shiro furrowed his brow, and frowned at him.

"Where did you get the gun?" he asked, cocking his head. "I didn't bring any of mine. You never told me you bought one..."

Despite Shiro's slightly nerved tone, his hand had been holding tightly to Lance's. He leaned in close to him, making sure, nearly leaning his head on Lance's shoulder. He invited the kisses, and he invited the touch of their shoulders. Shiro didn't want Lance to leave. Even if he felt a little too empty for company. He didn't want Lance to leave.

"What did you do with him?" Shiro spoke again before Lance could answer his previous questions. "Did you... did you know what you were doing? You should have just let me take care of it."

"Shiro, listen to me. We aren't going to focus on that. We have more to think about than that. We'll talk about this later- right now, you're far too... " he stopped short, unable to find the right word. "You're not in the right mindset. Come on." He took Shiro's hand and began to pull him back, leading him through to the bathroom and turning on the shower. "You need to rinse yourself off. I'll draw a bath while you shower and if you don't want to have a bath with me, then that's okay."

He checked the temperature of the water and turned to face Shiro again, smiling sweetly. "I promise, we'll talk about this tomorrow. Right now, we have more to focus on and I don't want to upset you. Please. We can talk about it later tonight if you get too restless but for now, I want to see that sparkle in your eyes again. I miss seeing it." He pulled Shiro in for a short kiss before breaking away. "Go and have a quick shower. I'm going to sort out the bed ready for us to cuddle up with each other later tonight."

Shiro held a little tighter to Lance's hand, but he nodded, leaning to just press their foreheads together for a second. He closed his eyes, breathed in a deep breath, and then pressed a weak kiss of his own to Lance's lips. Without another word, Shiro pulled away and looked down, silent.

Lance pulled back too, running his fingers through his hair as he turned away, starting back to the bedroom. Shiro should have some time alone to shower. Lance could occupy himself and his thoughts by tidying up for... however long Shiro would take. He was hoping Shiro would only take about half an hour but he wasn't sure how lucky he would be with that. Shiro did usually take long showers.

Shiro didn't take too long, though. He scrubbed the crusted blood from his skin — from his face and from his hands and from his arms. It was easy. He knew the easiest and most efficient way for washing off blood. Warm water. Then cold water. Rough scrunchy. Lots of soap. Shiro only washed himself clean of Zarkon's blood before turning off the shower. He stepped out of the shower, feeling much better with his skin scrubbed raw and his head cleared out with the help of that steam. Shiro just wrapped the the towel around he waist — didn't bother drying himself off too much.

He was just going to get in the bath again, right?

Shiro stepped back out into the bedroom, water still dripping from his hair and down his skin — trickling about his scars, cooling down the line of his spine. He leaned on the doorway, looking for Lance. His eyes still a bit more washed out than normal, but they certainly weren't as bad. The softest of smiles tugged at the sides of his lips as he met Lance's gaze.

"You wouldn't happen to still be interested in that bath, would you?" he asked gently, sounding off but... brighter than before. Smiling warmly, Lance approached and wrapped his arms around Shiro. He leant on him a little, looking up at and kissing his boyfriend.

"Well who would I be if I ever said no?" he said with a small, teasing smile, brushing some strands of wet hair out of Shiro's face. "Come on, handsome," he murmured sweetly against his lips.

He walked past him and into the bathroom, turning the faucet on and starting to run the bath. In the meantime, he closed the bedroom door and stripped down into his boxers, lighting a couple of candles around the room. He added some nice bath salts and bubble bath, filling the room with a sweet mix of aromas. It smelled nice, making him relax. He pressed a short kiss to Shiro's jaw.

He stood with his boyfriend, occasionally humming a soft tune and swaying to it while he waited for the bath to fill, almost overflowing with bubbles by the time he turned off the faucet. The water was hot, but pleasantly so, and Lance could feel the tension melting away as he sank down into the bath. Sure, the water was up to his chest and the bubbles to his neck, but where was the fun if he wasn't going to end up piling bubbles on his head and calling himself the bubble king? What, pray tell, was the point of a bubble bath if every single second wasn't going to be spent either throwing bubbles around or trying not to disappear underneath them forever?

What was the point in having a bubble bath with his boyfriend if Lance wasn't going to gather up a handful of the bubbles with both hands, settle them on Shiro's head, and proudly call his boyfriend his prince?

They needed to relax, just for a little bit. Even if this little bit of happiness was only going to be temporary.

The bath couldn't have felt better. Shiro settled himself down in the tub, and hung his head backwards against the side of the tub, closing his eyes and letting the steam infect his breath and clear his head. His face felt puffy from his tears. His body felt tired from it's trembling. The coaxing of the hot water against his muscles felt better than anything. He just focused on the feeling... he didn't think about the events of before.

Conversation was fleeting, but Shiro didn't mind. They spoke a little bit, and when they did it was nice — but the silence was nice too. Shiro just held onto Lance's hand and lived in that silent moment, cherishing it. Loving it.

It took awhile for Shiro to regain proper thought, but he did.

And when he did, a heavy slap of realization seemed to strike him across the face.

"So," Shiro said out of nowhere. A long quiet had just passed. The water was growing cooler. Their hands were growing prunier. "Is it over now? Zarkon is gone..."

The words felt weird leaving him. Shiro furrowed his brow at the feeling, and sat up a little. The water sloshed weakly, lapping at his chest. "Zarkon is gone," he echoed, nearly stupefied at the idea. "That has to mean something, right?"

"He's gone," Lance said softly, settled on Shiro's lap. "It means that you're no longer in hiding. That Lotor can remove you from the wanted list so that we can go where we please. It means that you're safe." He pressed his lips to Shiro's. "We don't need to be Kuron and Pike anymore, too. We can change our names back for the people who know us here."

His warm gaze was settled on Shiro's face as he ran his fingers through his hair. "It means that we can do whatever we want now." All that they had to do was meet Lotor, explain their situation, and be given help. But- suddenly a thought crossed his mind. He frowned a little. "Do you still want to live here?" he asked after a few moments, continuing to brush Shiro's hair from his face. "I mean, we could go back. We could live in New York again, and get a new apartment." But I really don't want to leave here.

He watched Shiro intently as he waited for an answer, closing his eyes a little as they rested their foreheads together, his eyes closing. He just didn't know what to do. He didn't know how he'd react if Shiro wanted to go back to New York. Lance didn't want to lose this quaint little life he had finally gotten to live, but he didn't want to lose Shiro either.

God, he just didn't know what he would do.

Shiro's eyes widened a little at the mention of New York. A strange sort of feeling flushed through him as he thought about it... a strange, conflicted feeling. The idea of going back to New York... a New York with no Zarkon... it all sunk into his system in that moment. Shiro looked down — down at the dissolving suds of the bubble bath. He only managed a shrug at first.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "It's whatever's best for us. For you. I..." Shiro closed his eyes. Ever since the gun had been shot, his head had ached with a migraine — he just hadn't noticed how heavily it impacted him until then. "Let's talk about this later," he mumbled. "Let's get out of here. The water is going cold. I just wanna take some ibuprofen and lie down for a bit. If you, uh, couldn't tell Zarkon kinda shook me up." He gave a weak little laugh at that last bit, shaking his head.

When Shiro stood, he didn't feel as shaky. The two of them left the tub and dried off, Lance pulling the plug and letting the water drain while Shiro properly dried himself with a towel. He pulled on nothing but some underwear and a pair of sweatpants he had grabbed before they got into the bath, and turned around, patting at his damp hair as he waited for Lance, who joined him a few seconds.

Lance wore a pair of boxers and a shirt stolen from Shiro, the left sleeve torn off entirely- but it was only a tee so it didn't look too awkward. He plodded out, picking up the phone.

"I'm gonna order pizza," he said with a soft smile. "What kind do you want?" he began to pace a little, checking a coupon list by the bed and beginning to dial their local Dominos, sitting on the desk. He was probably going to go with a spicy meat feast- medium, of course- with garlic bread, waiting expectantly for Shiro to tell him what he wanted.

Yeah, maybe it was better to save the conversations about their future for the morning. Maybe they should save the conversation for at least a couple of days, or whenever it naturally came up next. Just not right now. Definitely not right now.

A few more rings and someone answered. Lance ordered his options and Shiro's order, just a small pizza with some garlic knots. Then he put the phone down and settled onto the bed, holding out his arms, waiting expectantly for Shiro to come and hold him close. He just wanted comfort from his boyfriend. He was currently holding so much back and the only safety line he had was Shiro. The only thing that encouraged him to keep all of this held back was Shiro. He could see the little sparkle in his boyfriend's eyes again. Perhaps not as bright as it had been only that morning, but it was there. That was what mattered.

Shiro, as expected, slipped into the space beside Lance. He had taken the ibuprofen already. He had also, with Lance's permission, taken one of his sleeping pills. The effects hadn't taken over just yet, but Shiro was sure they would in just a matter of time-- he'd been taking them for days, and each night their outcome was inevitable. Shiro wrapped his arm around Lance's waist, and settled down in the mattress, slumped beside his boyfriend.

There was a while of silence while they waited for the pizza guy. A silence where Shiro combed his fingers through Lance's hair, and Lance traced his touch about Shiro's scars. Shiro's eyelids, with the help of his pill, grew heavier and heavier -- drooping and falling with occasional flutters. He wouldn't sleep until after they ate, of course... but the temptation was alluring. Especially with how tired his hammering brain had been.

Shiro spoke to chase the tiredness away. His eyes were focused on his own stomach, and Lance's hand. Lance's finger had been gracing against a knotty, circular scar just at the side of Shiro's lower abdomen. "That's from a gunshot," he said quietly. "From a gunfight with a small group of Arusians. First they nicked my thigh and I fell. Then they shot me right there in my side. I fended a few of them off while I was still conscious, and then Sendak took care of the rest. Woke up in the Galra's private hospital a day later with a new scar and a new story."

Lance listened intently to each story. He would run his fingers over each and every little scar, smiling delicately as he imagined the stories. He idly twirled strands of Shiro's short hair around his fingers, toying with the long tufts at the front and just enjoying how sleepy Shiro looked. It was cute to see Shiro beginning to doze off, slumped against him, seeming so content to be in place against Lance.

"Wow," he mumbled when Shiro finished speaking. "I... so you fought people off with a bullet wound? You're so strong, Shiro," he said sweetly as he pressed his lips to Shiro's skin- only to be interrupted by the doorbell.

With a promise to return soon (and after convincing Shiro to release him), Lance was back downstairs, paying the delivery man and grinning to himself as he began back upstairs with the pizza boxes in his hand. He set Shiro's pizza down in front of him, helping his boyfriend sit up and kissing him to wake him up, before settling down. He opened his pizza box and then the garlic bread box, beginning to eat. He was leant against Shiro.

"I wish I had some cool wounds," he said with a soft smile. "I have a scar on the tips of my fingers from when I tried to grab a pan out of the oven, but that's about as far as it goes. You'd be a lady killer if you were straight, Shiro. I always wanted cool scars to show off to the ladies and I would have killed to have as much muscle as you have!" He shifted closer still, his legs draped over Shiro's lap absently.

He continued to talk about how much he admired Shiro. He played it off as 'oh, girls would have loved-' whenever he mentioned how gorgeous Shiro's eyes were, how cool his scars were, how much he liked his piercings or whatever else. Shiro just laughed along with him, blushing and smiling. He even found one of his hands touching at some of the more gnarled, ugly looking scars that stretched across his chest or his abdomen... Shiro never heard them described in such a way...

"But you know, I guess I was just lucky. I thought I was being lazy by never getting as muscular or as cool as you, but it turns out that that was what drew you to me~" His voice was teasing, lighthearted, perhaps a little mocking and his smile never left his lips. He loved that he could be so relaxed with Shiro.

Shiro gave a gentle little laugh, and cocked his head a little. "Your loser-ness was just so seductive," he said quietly, finally smiling with his eyes. "Basically had me swooning on the spot."

"Oh, tell me about it. Something about my scrawniness and how I looked like I was going to wet myself- man, I was just the obvious choice for a boyfriend, huh?"

"Of course," Shiro hummed, smirking. "I wouldn't choose any other man."

He looked down at himself, and shook his head a little. "People always wish for scars until they get them," Shiro murmured wisely, tilting his head to the side in thought. "I always wanted at least one. One real big one on my arm or something. Something to brag about -- this kid on the football team had a scar that he would talk about nonstop." Shiro trailed his hand up the side of his body, running his fingertips along the white, altered skin tissue of a larger slash. "If only that kid could see me now, huh?"

"Oh, definitely. I'm sure that he would be so jealous, babe. That's probably nothing compared to even your smallest scar. I bet you have cooler stories for them, too."

Shiro shook his head, and looked back to his food, picked up a garlic knot, and took a large bite from it. His stomach felt fine, even after throwing up. Shiro set the thing back down, his bite still in his mouth as he turned to look at Lance.

"Can I see the burn scars on your hand?" he asked, curious. "I thought those spots on your fingers looked like scars but I never really said anything."

Lance frowned a little. "Oh, well, they're nothing big. Not a bullet wound or anything," he said with a small smile. He offered Shiro his hand, revealing the small blemishes along his fingertips. They were faded, clearly years old, but they were still a little clear. "They can't be that interesting to look at. Why?" he frowned a little, glancing at his fingertips and then back at Shiro.

Shiro studied the slight discoloration of Lance's skin. There were three scars, each burned into the skin of his index, middle, and ring fingertips. Shiro smiled a little, and then leaned forward, bringing the three fingers to his lips. The little kiss was short and simple, but when Shiro pulled back, he noticed the blush of Lance's cheeks and the sparkle in Lance's eyes. Shiro brought Lance's hand up to his own cheek and pressed it there, leaning his head into Lance's touch.

"I just wanted to see," he said quietly. His voice was tired. He cut himself off with a sleepy sort of yawn. "I wanted to kiss it better for you."

Lance's whole face had gone a very vibrant shade of red at the affection and he wrapped his arms around Shiro, just to hide his face in his neck. He hadn't expected something so sweet. It was such a simple little gesture yet it made happiness swell up in his chest, followed by a small wave of giddiness that encouraged him to cup Shiro's cheeks and kiss him lovingly. He broke away only a few seconds later, though, his loving gaze still fixed fixed upon his lover's face.

"I wish I could do that to all of your problems," he said sweetly as his head settled back on the pillow, bringing Shiro's head on rest on his chest. He ran his fingers smoothly through Shiro's hair with one hand, the other reaching over for another slice of pizza.

This was bliss. These moments of nothing but hazy euphoria- they felt perfect. They gave Lance a sense of relief and comfort, even in the most trying times, and god knows how desperately he needed this with Shiro right now- after everything that had happened.

"I love you so much, Shiro," Lance said softly, closing his pizza box and setting it on the bedside table.

Shiro hugged him close. "I love you too, Lance," he murmured. He listened to Lance's heartbeat as he laid there, watching the window -- watching the sun begin to sink lower and lower beyond the horizon of trees and shops and streetlights. Each gentle beat from Lance's chest lulled Shiro into a sense of calmness he never knew he could achieve after a day of such terror.

To think that heart came so close to losing its rhythm...

"I thought I was going to lose you," Shiro admitted. The words sent a sudden shudder down Lance's spine. He pressed himself closer to Lance, pulling his whole body closer, his head still on Lance's chest, his legs tangling with Lance's legs. Shiro reached a hand up and draped it over Lance, turing so he almost hugged Lance's body into his own. Shiro closed his eyes. "I thought it was over. For the both of us. But you saved us, Lance. You... you saved me."

Lance's eyes stayed fixed on Shiro for a few long moments. He watched him, a small smile curling onto his lips as he ran his fingers through Shiro's soft hair. "I'll always be here to save you," he promised softly. 'I'll always protect you. Nothing matters more to me."

He pressed his lips to the top of Shiro's head, closing his eyes as he settled down. "We ought to get some sleep, handsome. Your sleeping pill won't let you stay awake much longer and I don't want you falling asleep with pizza in your mouth." He still toyed with Shiro's hair, closing his eyes and slumping a little. His attention was fully on Shiro, but he needed a little while to regain his energy. God knows that these last few days had been so miserably stressful and the first peaceful day they have, Lance end up having to shoot someone in the head.

How fucking typical, huh?

"Goodnight, Shiro," Lance's voice came shortly. "Sleep well. I love you."

Shiro gave a soft sigh, and nodded. He tried to work at Lance's words in his head, but his brain felt too tired. The pills power seemed the swathe his entire system... all he could do was hear Lance's words and register them as the truth.

"Goodnight Lance," Shiro responded, his voice a slurred whisper. "I love you. Too all the stars and back..."

He slipped into a quick sleep seemingly the second the sentence left him.

There were no nightmares.


	46. A Visit From An Old Friend

Shiro woke up late the next morning to a series of loud, pounding knocks that seemingly shook the bed even from downstairs.

He shot up quickly with a gasp, the heavy, desperate thudding jolting him with a shock. Shiro looked around the room quickly, mind a bit blank as everything caught up to him. When Lance uttered out an annoyed groan from beside him, however, Shiro felt his startled system relaxed, everything rushing back into him the moment he let himself ease into a slumped sigh. He reached a hand up to his head and rubbed it, already shifting out of bed. Shiro tip-toed over to the window and pulled back the curtain just a bit to peek a glance through its folds. His shoulders slumped as he stepped back from the window, head falling forward as he let the rest of the tension in his muscles melt away in relief.

"It's Lotor and Allura," Shiro said to Lance on the bed. Shiro reached up, and ran a hand through his hair as he scoured the floor for a shirt. He plucked up an old tank top and pulled it over his head. The knocks still pounded freely from the front door... even though Shiro couldn't exactly remember if they had locked up or not. He shook his head, and took a quick glance at the clock on the wall as he moved forwards towards the staircase. They had slept till noon...

Shiro shook his head and offered a little wave to Lance, the knocks shaking him from his thoughts. "I'll be right back," he said hastily as he opened up the door to the staircase. "Good morning, though. I hope you slept well. Love you!"

Shiro's words were responded to with an exhausted groan.

His voice trailed down the stairs as he thudded down them. He ignored the strangely polished look of the floor, and some of the missed spots about the counter and in the creases of the cash register. He ignored the whispers of the gunshot as they echoed in his head at the sight of their downstairs home. He ignored the impulse to remember the morning before. Instead continued forward towards the main entrance. He unlocked all the locks, turned the handle cool, metal handle, and pulled open the door.

The jingle sent a little chill through him... but the discomfort dispersed itself at the sight of familiar faces.

"Hey, we came as early as we could have, I hope that yo-"

Shiro didn't let him finish. He lurched forwards, engulfing Lotor in a tight, tight hug. It lasted a little longer than a few seconds. Shiro pressed his face into Lotor's shoulder, squeezed him a little tighter for a good moment or so, and then pulled back -- his hands still on Lotor's arms.

"I missed you," he said quietly. Shiro trailed his gaze to Allura, and nodded at her. "Hello, Allura." She just nodded, murmured that it was good to see him again.

He stepped back some more, taking his hands off of Lotor's shoulders and instead moving them to hold the door. Shiro gestured them to enter. "Why, uh, why don't you guys come in? It's cold outside..."

Lotor trudged in and Allura walked in shortly after, holding a bag of the necessary cleaning supplies and tools to use to deal with whatever of Zarkon had been missed. She moved to begin checking for leftover blood and such while Lotor stopped off beside Shiro.

"Should we go wake up Lance? Or do you just want to go and stay upstairs with him while we sort out... all of this." He didn't want to have Shiro witness this if it would get overwhelming for Shiro. Lotor's apathy took over in states of shock or horror. Shiro's 'Kuro' state only took over if he chose for it to. He couldn't take the risk of bringing Shiro to help him if it would trigger something- a panic attack or something similar- because they didn't know how much time they had to deal with the body.

Allura was already wiping blood from the counter and whatever else, making sure that no traces of blood would be left.

Shiro thought about it for a moment. "Lance can stay upstairs if he wants to. He's awake. Probably eavesdropping on us," he said quietly, shrugging his shoulders. "I think I'm fine with trying to help... I've taken care of bodies before. While ignoring the faces."

He felt better that morning. A little shaky, a little apprehensive in respects of Zarkon and Zarkon's blood and Zarkon's body but... the bath and the talk with Lance and the long, long rest had helped him and his nerves considerably so. Shiro couldn't quite tell why the idea of dealing with Zarkon's body irked him at all, really... it would be easy to stuff those feelings back in order to provide assistance. Just as long as he ignored who it was. Like he'd done before — time and time again.

A dead body is nobody. There's no life. Sendak's words to the rookie Shiro misted in his mind for an odd second. You're dealing with nothing but a sack of flesh and bone. It's nobody no more.

"I can help. I'll be fine," Shiro affirmed with a nod. He looked to Lotor, and offered a consoling look. Shiro lifted his hand and placed it on Lotor's shoulder. "So if you're not a hundred percent on this, you don't have to either. Even if you wanted Zarkon dead you... you shouldn't have to see him... if you don't want to." Lotor offered a smile.

"I appreciate the concern, Shiro, but this is something I must do." He turned to Allura, who was bringing the tools to the storage room- where Lance had managed to drag Zarkon's body the night before, his head wrapped in a trash bag to prevent spilling more blood. "If you hadn't killed him, Shiro, I gladly would have. All that you have done is save me a job," he remarked with an unsettling carefreeness.

Lotor went to the back room, pulling on some gloves, and made sure to check that there was no pulse before connecting the socket for the bone saw to the wall. Allura had already set out the plastic sheets for Zarkon to be lying on when he was sliced up, and Lotor slid his mask on as he began doing the dirty work.

He'd done it plenty of times before. The fact that this was his father made no difference to the fact that he was deceased. A corpse that needed to be dealt with.

The emotions would seep in later, likely when he was alone. Definitely while he was intoxicated, if he could help it. If Allura denied him access to a bar, or Shiro refused to let him have something to drink... he didn't know what he would do. But, for now, this was just a body, and it was his assignment to deal with it.

'Emotions mark vulnerability,' he could hear Zarkon saying, voice muffled through the bag wrapped around his head. If the bag wasn't there, would Zarkon's words be accompanied by that familiar grimace? The same scowl he had on his features each and every time they met eyes? 'Combat is the searing light that burns away imperfections. Vulnerabilities, weaknesses, they are all imperfections.'

Lotor's eyes flickered to Zarkon's head for just a moment as he finished severing his left arm. He felt a little nauseous, the memories stirring some sense of sickliness in his stomach. He moved to the other side of Zarkon's corpse and began to slice through his right arm, feeling the bone saw meet little resistance as it sliced through flesh, blocking out the vile sound as it chiselled its way through the bone.

'You will have none of these imperfections. You will not grow attached to others. You will have no sentimental value for those who will only drag you down.' The words were grating in his ears now, like nails down a blackboard. Still, he tried to block them out and focus on his work. 'Failure to meet these standards will result in a punishment worse than death.'

Zarkon's voice was in his head. It was scratching away at his skull, giving him a pounding headache. Still, he did not falter. He didn't hesitate. The right arm was severed and Lotor moved to separate the legs from the body. Perhaps it had been clear how unsettled he was. Perhaps he had been too tense. Perhaps the way his hands trembled had been a blatant giveaway at how poor he felt right now. Perhaps that was what inspired Allura to settle her hand on his shoulder and tell him that he needed to take a few moments outside.

"You shouldn't subject yourself to this," she had said. Lotor could recall her words as he stood outside the shop, a lit cigarette in hand, staring blankly at the road ahead. It was empty. Not a single car went past. "Perhaps it would be better if someone less attached were to deal with this. While I finish this, you can go outside. Take a breather."

His first instinct had been to fight. To argue. Insist that he could complete the job he was given. Weakness and vulnerability wouldn't drag him down. He wouldn't be imperfect! He had spent so, so many years trying not to be imperfect. He had spent all too long keeping his walls up as best as he could. He wasn't going to lose track of that now. He wasn't going to be the mistake, the wayward disappointment that his father always made him out to be. Then his eyes met Shiro's. He had the blood on his mask, on the plastic suit that covered his clothes, and as he looked up at Shiro he could see the genuine concern. Perhaps it had been a little too much for him.

He'd taken her advice and was taking a few moments outside. The cigarette was still between his lips. He took great joy in the longer drags, filling his lungs with the vile smoke and toxicity until they burned like they were on fire, begging to just be put out, to get some clean air- and he would press his lips into and 'o' shape and watch as the thick billows of smoke escaped his lips and dissipated into the crisp winter air. He heard the window upstairs slide shut and almost apologised for the pungent aroma of tobacco- before a soft click rang out and the latch had closed, the window locked.

Instead, he just stared at the road and took another long drag from his cigarette. Humiliation was setting in. How could he have acted so pathetic? How could he have gotten so caught up that even Allura was able to detect his tension? Shiro must have been laughing at him. He insisted again and again that he was competent enough for this, that he could do this. He needed to do this, to know that his father was dead by being the one to dispose of his body. Instead, he had humiliated himself. He dropped the cigarette to the floor as smoke escaped his lips, snuffing it out with the tip of his foot. All he needed now was a lot to drink and possibly some weed. Then he could confront this head on.

Until then, the job was priority, and he needed to get back to work.

So he turned to the door with a new sense of determination and began toward it, gritting his teeth. Determined to get this over with.

A hand on his chest had stopped him.

Shiro had been leaning in the door way, watching Lotor smoke and stress. Helping out with the body when Lotor was in the room was easy — the atmosphere, somehow, was a little less tense. Thought when Lotor left, and when Allura's glare drilled holes into Shiro as he worked, the comfort seemed to fade and the reality of that tricky little situation sank in. Shiro told Allura he needed a break for some water and wandered away to the door, slipping off his gloves and his mask and discarding them into the trash with a shudder. The moment he caught sight of Lotor in the window Shiro had moved his cautious way to the door, thinking about asking for a smoke before he noticed Lotor's twisted up features and scowling lips. He simply sat and watched Lotor finish his cigarette, but the moment Lotor had spun around to come back inside, Shiro decided to take his action.

"Hey, buddy," Shiro said in a quiet, almost chiding voice. "Breaks not over yet. I just got here."

He slipped outside into the cool winter air, shutting the door behind him as he stepped up to stand beside the suddenly rigid Lotor. Shiro inhaled the residing fumes of that cigarette, and smiled a little, eyes turning to look at Lotor from their corners.

"You're smoking?" Shiro mused, the hum more of a statement than a question. "You wouldn't happen to have anymore, would you? We could smoke a little..." he trailed off, features straightening just a bit as his voice deepened into a more serious sort of murmur. "We could talk a little, too."

Lotor frowned slightly, but nonetheless he dug into his pocket and took out a packet of cigarettes. He offered one to Shiro, taking another for himself. He lit Shiro's first, then his own.

"Talk?" he finally echoed, leant against the wall. "What is there to talk about?" He definitely didn't want to speak about anything Shiro could bring up. He just planned on brushing off his almost-breakdown and instead fixing his attention onto literally anything else.

"And yeah, I was smoking," he mumbled. "I don't smoke often, I swear. The occasional blunt but I've limited that to one a week at the most, and I try to smoke even less than that because I've been trying to quit for years now. Sometimes I just need to take a step back with my progress so it's easier to take that step forwards next time- if that makes sense." He took a slow drag from the cigarette, but released it before it could begin to sting. He apparently needed to talk to Shiro and it wouldn't be ideal to have burning lungs and a mouthful of smoke while trying to communicate.

"I get that, like, a hundred percent."

Shiro listened, nodding along as he brought his cigarette to his lips, the thing weakly burning its dulled orange. He pulled in a deep drag after Lotor had finished talking, but the moment the smoke met his lungs he erupted into coughs. Shiro turned his head and coughed into his elbow, eyes watering when he finally caught his breath again. He gave a soft little laugh, weakly wheezing into his palm.

"It's been a while," he coughed weakly at Lotor's playfully judging stare. Shiro brought the cig back up to his lips, taking a slower, more tentative drag. He held it until it burned, and then let it go. The smoke was much uglier than the smoke from weed... it was greyer. Mistier. Shiro watched it fade into the air. "Are you alright, Lotor?"

The question floated up like the smoke did. It disappeared into the sharp, cold air. Misting away.

"It's okay if you're not," Shiro said with a nod. "You don't have to do any, like, pretending for anyone, you know? At least you don't have to for me."

"I'm fine," he said softly. "I am. I'm fine. It's just another job, and I'm not going to get distracted. After this, I'm going to drive Allura to a crematorium that we run as a front and we'll deal with the body there. After that, we'll come back here to offer support, make sure everything is working fine. Then we'll be on the next plane back and flying back to America so I can claim my spot as the ruler of the Galra mafia and work on clearing your names from the wanted list."

He was fine. He said it to Shiro the same way he said it to himself. It may have been a lie, but it was one that he needed to tell himself right now. His father was vile and abusive and all kinds of violent. His father was once a tolerable and patient man, and then he had been cruel and violent, and now his father was dead. Zarkon was dead. And Lotor had almost cut him limb from limb.

It was difficult to wrap his head around. Not just the idea that his father was very much dead and he had just sawn both of his arms from his lifeless corpse- that had been registering in his mind while he had been on the plane and Allura had slept. It was difficult to wrap his head around the idea that he was free.

That finally, after years and years of endless abuse, of threats, of lies and of manipulation and cruel, cruel words, Lotor was free. He no longer had his father looming over him, weaponizing his status and using the power he had to keep Lotor in line. He no longer had any reason to hide away in the Arus mafia hotel. He no longer needed to keep everything packed in case his father found him and he needed to go off-grid for a while.

It was difficult to process the news that he was only one plane journey away from seizing power and ending his father's violent rule.

Though, possibly, some part of him might have been rejecting the idea that his father was dead.

Shiro furrowed his brow, watching Lotor's mind work behind his tired eyes. "So it's really over then, huh?" he asked, cocking his head. "Zarkon's gone. You're taking over..." Lotor only nodded, his eyes hollow as he stared blankly at the wall. It had set in for someone, then. Just not him.

He trailed off, lost in thoughts he couldn't really decipher. Shiro shook his head a little, deciding not to slip and tumble down the depths of all those rabbit holes. His head was already tired from the stresses of the day before... and not to mention Lotor obviously needed some sort of sturdy support. Even if he wasn't going to admit to any of those feelings Shiro could easily see in those eyes of him, he still needed something stable to have his back.

Shiro's gaze turned to the ground. He suddenly didn't want his cigarette anymore... he stuck the end of the not even halfway finished cigarette into the wall, and then flicked the thing into the metal bin Shiro kept beside the door for the occasional stress blunt.

"Do you want to come inside and, like, actually hang out for a bit?" Shiro asked, changing the topic. "Allura didn't seem like she was in need of too much help... I could get you something to drink. Maybe we could go upstairs and see how Lance is doing?"

Lotor didn't respond for a few long minutes. It felt like an eternity before he opened his mouth and gave a small, unenthused, "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind."

He got to his feet, flicking his own cigarette butt into the same dish and beginning to walk to the door again. He pushed his way inside and began through to the door at the back, expecting Shiro to follow. He began up the stairs, his body feeling numb and his mind almost empty.

"Lance?" he called up, halfway up the stairs now. "I'm on my way up. Shiro's coming with me." Entering the bedroom, Lotor was met with the pleasant scent of a cooked breakfast. Lance was stood by the stove, still wearing what he had slept in- meaning that he still had bare legs. He'd gotten straight out of bed to make breakfast, so his hair was messy and he looked generally unkempt. Lotor hadn't seen him in such a state before.

The male turned to him and smiled in greeting.

"Good to see you again," he said with a beaming grin. He didn't look like a man who'd just murdered someone. "Breakfast is just coming and I made enough for us all. Feel free to sit down whenever and I'll let you come make yourself a portion when it's all cooked."

A few moments of silence. Rage tried to consume Lotor, stirring in the pit of his stomach. Lance had just murdered his father the night before and he didn't care? Lance had killed a man and his response to the situation was to smile and offer breakfast? Lotor could now declare himself an orphan and the person he could hold accountable for his father's death was offering him breakfast like nothing had happened? He hadn't expected to be begged for forgiveness, but was an apology or some heartfelt remark about what had happened too much for Lance?

He just took a few breaths and settled on the sofa, repressing the anger back to where it had stemmed from.

"Thank you," he said, deciding that he could deal with the anger settling in his abdomen when he got a long enough break to. He couldn't afford to dwell on his own anger right now.

Shiro went to Lance to press a quick kiss to his lover's cheek, and deliver the slightest of skimmed touches about Lance's inner thigh, the brush of his fingers more of an act of Shiro's own grateful intimacy than anything else. Lance just looked so alluring with his mused hair and oversized shirt... even if the situation didn't really leave much room for such thoughts. After the discreet touch, and murmur of another good morning, Shiro moved back from Lance and went to go sit beside Lotor on the sofa. Shiro leaned back against the sofa, and looked at Lotor, his head tilted to the side and his legs crossed.

"Thank you for coming," he said quietly. "You didn't have to... but you're making this a whole hell of a lot easier..." Shiro trailed off, looking to the side. "Are you sure you only want to stay for a little? I... Hell. Sorry. That's kinda rude to ask, isn't it? I just... I just kinda wish things would slow down a bit so we could have time to just hang out... I really did miss you, man."

"Maybe sometime soon," he promised softly as his eyes turned to Shiro. "But not recently. Everything has been a little too busy and I don't think that staying here to chat will establish my place as a leader to the Galra empire."

Lotor moved away a little. He didn't want to talk to the two of them. Shiro's shameless intimacy with Lance was understandable and respectable- Lotor was in their home, it wasn't his place to complain- but seeing Shiro snuggled up to someone else made some vile jealousy blossom. He was too emotional recently. He didn't like how sensitive he was. What, and all because his father had received a well-earned bullet to the brain?

He would be over it soon.

Lance smiled, handing Shiro his plate and sitting beside him with his own. He looked over at Lotor.

"Go and get however much you need," he said softly. "Feel free to help yourself to seconds, too." His head settled on Shiro's shoulder, closing his eyes as he moved a little closer to his boyfriend. He just stayed close to Shiro. Lotor stood and did as he was told, just needing some time away from the couple. He got away from Allura and Romelle to be faced with Lance and Shiro? It wasn't better.

Shiro watched Lotor disappear into the kitchen, and waited until he was free from earshot to turn to Lance. His eyes grew serious, his lips pursed in the lightest of frowns. "I worried about him," he whispered. Shiro reached up his free hand and ran it through Lance's hair, brushing down some of its wild frizziness. "His father is dead. Even if he was a piece of shit and Lotor hates him and everything... I'm sure it's still rough..."

He gave a soft sigh and shook his head, eyes flicking back to the kitchen for a split second to make sure Lotor hadn't been listening. "You can see that look in his eyes, right? That's not just me?" he asked. "I mean, we haven't seen him in forever but... but I think I can tell that something is wrong..." Lance nodded.

"Something's upsetting him," he said softly. "And it's not just his father. Something else is getting to him. He doesn't really trust me, though, so you need to be the one to talk to him about this. I wish I could deal with it, but... he trusts you more and you're probably the only person he has right now that he can open up to."

He took Shiro's hand, idly running his thumb over his knuckles. He began eating, letting out a quiet sigh of content. "Have your breakfast first, though babe. I don't want it to get cold."

Shiro nodded, and leaned in to kiss Lance -- the moment short but tender. He pulled back, turned towards his plate, and began to eat. Soon, Shiro watched as Lotor approached the sofa and sat beside him, a little further off than before, of course... but still beside him. Lotor's plate wasn't very full at all. Scarce bits of Lance's breakfast clumped to only one side, and Shiro noticed how idle Lotor's poking fork had been. He tried to ignore it though, turning back to his own plate and his own fork. His one hand had still been in Lance's, their touches simple but meaningful as Shiro tried to sort out a way to loosen the stiffness of the atmosphere.

"I'm on sleeping meds now," Shiro said out of the blue, looking to Lotor. "Antidepressants, too. Also some vitamins and iron supplements. Did you know I was, like... uh... anemic? Yeah that's the word. The doc said I've been that way for years. Said I didn't eat enough for my size either." He turned back to his plate and shrugged. "I wouldn't have ever known if I didn't black out from exhaustion. Pretty crazy."

"I thought you already knew," Lotor said softly as he looked at him. "I'd expected you to already been on medication. It was clear that you had issues with malnutrition and you did seem to need some form of an antidepressant but I'd expected you to already be taking them."

Lotor prodded at some of the food, slowly bringing a small forkful to his lips, struggling to get himself to eat it but soon managing to swallow, setting the fork down. His appetite was gone. He didn't want anything to eat- no matter how good Lance's cooking was. Though the news of Shiro's condition didn't surprise him. He could tell pretty soon after meeting Shiro that he was in need of supplements but he had assumed that Shiro was already taking them. It wasn't like his condition was particularly subtle.

Shiro shrugged his shoulders a little. "How was I supposed to know?" he asked with a little snort. "I haven't been to the real doctor since... like..." he trailed off, thinking back to it hard. "Maybe senior year... Jesus. It was senior year. Of highschool. I broke my arm playing football -- it's why I didn't get the scholarship I wanted right away and had to live with my parents for awhile. Before they, uh, kicked me out."

He set his half empty plate down on the floor, and leaned back. Shiro brought his hand up to his prosthetic, and tapped at it a bit. "It was this arm too. That's why I'm ambidextrous. I could barely use it all year... and then even after that it was always kinda... not right," Shiro went on, almost rambling as he furrowed his brow, lost in memories. "I guess... I guess that was one of the reasons Z-... he cut it off. To torture me, yeah, but... he always had a thing about weakness. I never thought about it like that before..."

There was a second of silence before Shiro realized he had been talking... aloud... His face flushed and he sat up quickly, features twisted up in a apologetic sort of look when he turned to Lotor. "Sorry. Sorry," he muttered. "Too soon to talk about him like that. I- shit. Sorry. Just ignore me."

Lotor's eyes were hollow, his gaze empty as he turned his attention to the floor. "I've spoken poorly of him since I could speak. It's not 'too soon' solely because of his death. My father was a sick and vile man and he did disgusting things and it's good to know that he is truly dead and that he can't harm me anymore." He tugged up the sleeve of his jacket, showing the small circular scars dancing along his forearm. "I told you before, didn't I? He used to put out cigarettes on my arm. The first time it happened, I almost screamed. I can recall how vile the agony made me feel. He didn't tell me why he did it. I just watched as he flicked the cigarette into the ashtray and sent me off. If ever I accompanied him to meetings or discussions, he would have a cigarette before hand and leave a new scar on my arm."

He brushed his fingers over some of them, a small flash of anger crossing his features. "And he did it consistently for years and years, until I could no longer feel the searing of my skin. He repeated this until he could snuff out a cigarette on a clean piece of flesh and I wouldn't flinch, nor whimper, nothing. He told me when he put the cigarette into the ashtray almost two years after he had started, that he had been building up my pain tolerance. He told me that I was in a position where plenty would want me dead, or would think I had information. He told me that if I ever find myself in some situation like you were in, with consistent torture, that I should die before I give up the information." He pulled his sleeve back down, eyes fixing on the floor.

He waited a few seconds, his words heavy in the air. He spoke again. "On the day of my leaving, he tracked my number. I awoke one morning to a voice message left on my phone. I still have it saved. He called me a disgrace, a wayward shame, the greatest regret he had. A weak spot in the 'empire', as he called it, that he was happy to be rid of. He told me if I brought myself back immediately, he would brand me a coward, put me through hell, but he wouldn't kill me. He told me I would lose my ranks, my significance, be no more than a drug mule or a low level informant- but that I would live to continue to serve him. That refusal for over twenty-four hours would result in an official declaration that if anyone from the Galra Mafia is to see me, they are to execute me on sight for a bountiful reward. After all my father has done, it will never be too soon to speak ill of him. I have more horror stories for one day with him through my youth than you could have in your entire experience of servitude to him."

He was silent now. Done talking, evidently, his eyes lazily focused on the carpet beneath his feet. Lance just cleared up the plates, going to the kitchen and beginning to wash them up. He wasn't fit to participate in this conversation. It didn't involve him. He couldn't say that he had been tormented by Zarkon. He couldn't insist that he, too, was traumatised when he was the one who made a deliberate choice to attain this trauma. Lotor hadn't chosen to be born into Zarkon's family. Shiro hadn't chosen to be manipulated into joining. Lance had chosen to purchase a gun. Lance had chosen to pull the trigger.

Shiro listened, quiet. He nodded his head along, face growing all the more solemn as Lotor went on. When Lotor fell silent, Shiro stayed silent, his eyes dragging out to stare at something across the room. Shiro let the heavy stillness of the atmosphere carry on for a bit, thinking. It was only when he realized that he should have drawn out the conversation a bit more before Lance would return that he spoke.

"In that case," Shiro started, "Zarkon is a fucking bitch and I'm glad he's dead. I hope he fucking likes burning in Hell."

His voice was darker than it had been in a while. It was the more dismal and vicious sort of venomous tones that Kuro would use... the sound felt odd leaving his newer, more domesticated lips. He pushed up from his slouch backwards and instead leaned forwards, elbows on his knees. Shiro glared at the floor in front of him.

"It wish it was me," he muttered, letting his fingers run over the knuckles of his prosthetic. "Shit. I wish it was you. If anyone here had a right to kill him, it was you... Lance shouldn't have done it..."

"It saved me a job," Lotor said dismissively. He didn't seem to care, though the regret would soon seep in that he so desperately wanted to be the one killing his father. If he were lucky, though, perhaps he would still be able to kill the witch. "He deserves an eternity of the torture he put so many people through. My father will not be missed, and he should not be mourned."

Finally, he stood. This wasn't the topic he wanted to focus on, he had to help Allura, he just wanted to leave. Whatever his reason, he was starting silently to the door with obvious intent to wordlessly leave. It wouldn't have been an issue if they were going to meet up again before they left but neither of them knew what the plan was. They didn't know if they'd see each other again for a long while.

"Lotor, wait."

Shiro pushed up from the sofa a little, looking earnestly into Lotor's eyes when the man had turned around and faced him. Shiro swallowed hard, and then stood completely from the couch, flicking his eyes to the kitchen for a half a second to see if Lance had been eavesdropping. He stepped over to the rigid Lotor, looking up into those strange, somehow transfixing eyes of his. Those dull, tired eyes. Eyes without sparkle. Eyes without innocence.

Are those the eyes Lance sees when he looks at you?

 

"You're hurting," he said quietly, pushing away the thought in an instant. "Maybe not hurting but... something's wrong. I know that look, I've seen it in the mirror more times than I can even count, Lotor. Please. Talk to me. It doesn't matter what you have to say... the thing that matters is you have to say it. I can tell. And I can listen."

"I've already told you too much," he murmured. "It's already shameful enough that I was so overwhelmed I had to leave the room. I have some rules that I live by when it comes to my assignments- ones like dealing with bodies or committing murder or manipulating people during interrogations into giving me information that they aren't supposed to reveal. Having to leave the room, letting my emotions get to me to the point of behaving so outrageously... I'm disgusted by my own actions and, were my father alive, he would be too."

He took a step away from Shiro, not wanting to be with either of the two of them. He didn't want to interact with them or endure their pitying support for his juvenile behaviour. This was work he had done countless of times before- it shouldn't be different now because of who he had been burying.

"Leave me alone," he said softly, though there was a sudden edge to his voice. He was building up a new wall as they spoke, keeping them out, locking up his emotions behind a whole new line of defence. "My mistakes are my own. My behaviour is my own. Pitying me for them won't benefit me." He sounded distant- speaking to them the same way that he had when they'd first met. They were just back to square one, and all because Lotor couldn't bear even the slightest show of emotion when thinking of his deceased father.

His hands were trembling by his sides and he had gone a little pale. He was exhausted and stressed, overwhelmed with this tragic news and unsure of how he was supposed to cope with this.

'With alcohol', his mind would tell him again and again, drilling it into his skull like it was the only viable option he had. 'With so much alcohol and so much weed that you won't be able to remember the grief until you've dealt with it.'

And, as expected, that was his plan. He just had to wait a few days so that he could actually be at home for this. Somewhere quiet- somewhere that he wouldn't be able to experience any of this negativity. Quietly, in the back of his mind, he could hear his father calling for Lotor to join him. To finish the job, lest he be even more of a disgrace. Or, better yet, to be buried alongside him. He'd forgotten to bring his meds with him last night, in his hurried packing. The little voices, the nagging, the sensation of hands around his throat- he was just ignoring it. Compressing the emotions they inspired, trying not to let them trigger his fight-or-flight instinct.

Shiro, hopelessly, watched Lotor stalk off. He listened to the stomping of Lotor's feet as he made his way downstairs, bringing his hands up to his opposite arms in a sort of self hug. He heard Lance creep out from the kitchen, and felt the slip of Lance's comforting hand around his waist. Shiro gratefully moved into Lance's hold, his own arms still crossed over his chest as he heard the last clomp of Lotor's boots and the slam of the front door as he moved out into the storage unit with Allura. Shiro gave a soft sigh and hung his head.

"I'm not that difficult, am I?" he asked in a soft mutter, trying to find something to lighten his own mood.


End file.
